out of the ashes
by purdys pal
Summary: Now COMPLETE The Sequel to Into the fire again...  Still recovering from his injuries, Michael must hold himself together when Larry Sizemore, out for revenge targets Sam and Fiona.
1. Chapter 1

OUT OF THE ASHES.

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. This is all for fun.

**AU: Based on Out of the fire. S4 Ep17.**

**Into the fire again:** On the way to Tyler Brennan's apartment to get the NOC list, Larry crashed the Charger. Michael and Larry ended up on the run. After a long chase, various injuries, and imprisonment. Michael has ended up with a head injury, a shaky deal to stay out of prison and with loyal friends who aren't really that sure how trustworthy he is any more.

**Out of the ashes:** Steps a new Michael Westen, unsure of himself, quick tempered and barely in control. But he needs to hold himself together when Larry, out for revenge, targets his friends.

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Chapter one.

Fiona's eyes flickered open she lay still, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness while she worked out what had caused her to wake. There it was again, faint sounds of distress accompanied by Michael restlessly moving about in the bed. With a sleepy groan she realized he was dreaming again. Turning on to her side she reached out towards him. Sometimes just the feel of her hand was enough to let him know he wasn't alone and he would settle after a few minutes.

This time as her hand touched his warm slightly feverish skin he turned to face her, and a muscular arm snaked around her waist, and a pyjama clad leg dropped over both of hers, pulling her into a tight embrace. His head was buried into the crook of her neck, faint whimpering moans reached her ears, breaking her heart as his grip tightened even more. She wrapped her arms around his body, holding on to him, as tightly as he held on to her. "It's alright." She told him. "It's alright I'm here."

She combed her fingers through his hair as he continued to mumble gibberish into her neck. Changing to rubbing his back as his body suddenly began to tremble, his muscles flinching and twitching as if he was taking blows.

"Michael, it's just a dream. You're safe here." She soothed, laying a gentle kiss on his cheek. Still hoping this would be one of the nights where, after a while he calmed and fell into a deep sleep.

She felt the trembling begin to worsen, as his moans grew louder and more distressed. "No!" He wailed out the denial. Biting her lip she realized this was not going to be an 'easy' night.

His arms began to flail wildly as he flung himself across the bed, tangled in the bed sheet he struggled violently to free himself. She tried to stop his panic but in the end she had to withdraw to let him come round by himself as he blindly lashed out.

.

"_Hey Michael! That was a good shot." Simon crouched down next to the bed a beaming smile on his face, a trickle of blood ran down the side of his nose from the neat hole in the middle of his forehead. "I bet you made Larry real proud." Michael could feel the man's breath against his skin. Smell the decay from his rotten corpse. The grin faded, Simon's features twisted into a grimace. "And now you're going to end up just like me." He lent in very close now. "Just. Like. Me."  
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"NO!" Michael's eyes flew open, his heart hammering in his chest, a film of sweat coated his body. Coughing and gagging from the stench of death that still filled his nostrils.

"Ssh, Michael it's alright it was a dream. Just a bad dream." Fiona's soft words of comfort were lost in his confusion.

Disorientated, he flung the bed sheet back, kicking out to untangle it from his legs. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, he hunched forward with his feet on the floor and his head in his hands.

"_Just like me. Just like me. Just. Like. Me." _Simon's taunt was still echoing through his skull. It was true, he was going mad, and there was nothing that could be done to stop it happening. He pressed the heels of his hands hard against his head. Trying to block the dead spy's words.

Fiona knelt behind him, reaching out tentatively to run a hand over his back. He was breathing heavily, the cool night air had turned his skin clammy to the touch. When he didn't react she brought both hands up to his shoulders. His muscles were bunched up tightly, feeling like stone under her fingers. Slowly she began to try and massage some of the tension out of his body.

After a few minutes she was rewarded when he gave a soft sigh, and relaxed back into her grip. She placed a gentle kiss on the nape of his neck. "You need to get some sleep." She whispered in his ear, moving even closer to wrap her arms about his shoulders.

He shook his head, reaching up to place a hand over the top of hers. "Don't you think I would if I could." He answered her, a little bit of the frustration he constantly felt, bled through in his tone.

"Do you remember what the doctor said? It's still early days, with plenty of rest there is no reason why you shouldn't make a full recovery." She spoke softly, her words were like a caress trying to encourage him back to bed.

"It's not going to make any difference." Michael gritted the words out, letting go of her hand.

He remembered exactly what the specialist had said, and while his mother, Sam and Fiona had all been over the moon and positive that he would recover fully.

He remained full of doubt. Every night his sleep was disturbed by Simon, taunting him with his greatest fear. He was losing his mind and his ability to think straight. Then sometimes, Larry would make an appearance, urging him to embrace the chaos and just let go. _"You're fighting a losing battle kid, for once just enjoy yourself. What's the worst that can happen? You end up making a lot of money."_

"You don't know that." She answered, cutting through his thoughts.

He couldn't take any more, shrugging off her hands, he was on his feet grabbing his clothes off a nearby chair. "I'm going out."

"It's 3 in the morning. Where are you going to go?" She was on her feet as well, watching him strip off the pyjama bottoms and start to get dressed. Any talk about his head injury had the same effect, sending him either out of the door or off round the room pacing like a wild animal.

"Out." He glanced at her, his expression closed and guarded.

"Don't do this." Fiona kept her voice low, moving closer only stopping when she saw him tensing up. "Stay with me." She was becoming practiced at coaxing him into listening to her.

He shook his head, kneeling down to fasten the laces on his trainers.

"It's late, you'll feel better once you've had a sleep." She persisted.

Michael stopped what he was doing, standing up straight he ran his fingers through his hair. Her calmness, was settling his rattled nerves. Fatigue was begining to edge out his anxiety.

Even in the dark she could see his eyes were tearing up. "I can't sleep, I can't switch off." He admitted.

"Let me help you." She stepped closer. "Let me take care of you." She was at his side, her hand on his arm first, and when he didn't pull away she slipped both arms around his waist, pulling him into her body. Burying her head against his chest, listening as his heart beat began to slow.

He bent his head down breathing in the scent of her hair, his arms closed round her returning the embrace. She walked him slowly towards the bed, slipping his shirt off, pulling his pants down and unlacing his trainers. Pushing him back onto the bed she climbed in next to him, this time she rested her head on his shoulder, and her hand splayed out on his chest.

"You're safe here with me. All you need to do is rest, it's like any other injury. You'll get better. You always do." She promised him.

Michael held her body gently against his side, the fingers of one hand played with her hair. "You should let me go." He spoke so softly she could barely hear the words. "One day I'm going to lose control and I'll hurt you. I won't want to, but.."

"You won't hurt me Michael." She kissed his shoulder, then his neck. "You're getting better." She had heard it all before over the last two weeks. All his doubts and fears. "You're improving we all see it." She reached his chin now with gentle nipping kisses.

"But what if.." She stopped his words by covering his mouth with her own, her tongue stroking against his, her hands holding him still. Putting an end to their discussion.

.

Fiona was woken by the hum of her cell phone bouncing across her bedside table. Bleary eyed she struggled to pick it up before the noise woke Michael. Squinting at the display she read the caller display, SAM, and then she saw that it was eight am. Pressing the accept button she held the phone to her ear. "What is it?" She whispered, climbing out of the bed as quietly as she could.

"Good morning sunshine." Came Sam's cheery response.

Hearing her sigh, he added. "Another bad night?" Sympathy plain in his tone.

Apart from the fact Fiona's couch was not as comfortable as a proper bed. Michael's nightmares had been one of the main reasons for moving out of her apartment after a couple of days. It was hard to listen to the noises that came through the wall each night. He had always thought of his friend as one of the strongest men he had ever met, and listening to him crying out in such distress and not being able to do a thing about it had been too much to take. So once he was satisfied Fiona could cope alone he had moved out.

"What do you want Sam?" She avoided his question, as she padded silently out of the bedroom.

"Can you meet me later? Alone."

"Is it important?"

"Yeah I think it is, but it's not something I want to talk about around Mike."

"I'm not taking on a job Sam, he needs me."

"Just meet me. I'll be in all day." Sam had moved into the loft, as he was still between lady friends and the building was going to waste.

"Ok." She answered with a sigh. "Madeline has been complaining that Michael hasn't been to see her. I'll try and convince him to visit. This better be important."

"It is, I'll see you later." He hung up without another word.

Dropping the phone back onto the table Fiona sat down on the couch. It was only then she noticed Michael was leaning against the bedroom door frame, watching her.

"Hi." He was wearing the pyjama bottoms he had discarded earlier and nothing else.

"Hi." She replied, as he continued to stare.

"What did Sam want?" He asked.

She should have known the call would have woken him up, and then his insatiable curiousity would cause him to eavesdrop.

"A job. He just wants some back up." She replied. "Do you want some breakfast?" She attempted a little misdirection. Getting to her feet, she walked over to him.

"If it's just back up.." He started to say, when she placed a finger over his lips, and shook her head.

"You were told by the doctor to rest and you've been ordered to keep a low profile by the feds." She watched the hopeful look on his face fade.

He took hold of her hand, his mouth capturing her finger. He held it between his teeth for a moment before letting her go. "So you're going to force me to visit my mother?" He asked his tone flat, unhappy at being left out of any potential action.

She realized he had heard the whole conversation. "You haven't seen her for a week, she's worried about you." She broke free ruffling his hair with her fingers.

"Fine." He reluctantly agreed, he went to sit at the dining table. Trying to flatten his hair as he slumped down.

"Good let's have some breakfast first, then you can call her. Tell her your coming over for a visit." Fiona headed for the kitchen with a smile on her face.

…...

It was eleven am, Larry Sizemore lay back on his large comfortable bed, his upper body propped up against the headboard by several soft pillows. He stared with a faint look of amusement at the slender woman who sat astride his hips. Her grey almost colourless eyes were narrowed in concentration. The tip of her tongue licking the corner of her upper lip.

She was restitching a jagged hole in the top of his arm, a large nasty hole created by a bullet ripping into his flesh at close range. A hole she had first stitched up nearly two weeks ago.

"Sasha, just get on with it." He growled. "You're enjoying this far too much."

"You're the one who burst the stitches in his arm going fishing." She gazed into his eyes, running a soft hand down his stubble covered cheek. "You let Michael shoot you. And then this. Really Larry you're getting old." She tied off the thread, slowly pressing on the wound until he grunted in pain.

"Sasha." He growled, as he bit his lip.

"An old man." She taunted, a trace of an east European accent in her voice. She picked up an adhesive dressing, and slapped it down over the stitches. "Old men should to be more careful."

Larry's good arm moved like lightening his fingers wrapped around her throat, squeezing until her lips began to turn blue, while her expression remained placid and serene. "Careful who you call old." He warned, before releasing her with a jerk of his arm.

She came off the bed and landed nimbly like a cat poised on the carpeted floor, one hand massaging her bruised throat. The other brushing her shoulder length ash blonde hair off her face.

"So Ross Dawson and his wife, are taken care off?" He asked, all signs of anger gone.

Sasha sat down next to the bed and glanced at her wrist watch. "They will be in another hour." Came her unconcerned replied.

"An hour?" Irritation entering his tone.

"They have lunch at midday." She answered if that explained everything.

His hands curled into fists. "Digoxin poisoning? You're becoming predictable. I thought I said.."

"You asked me to do a job. It's done, or nearly done. Now, when are you going to kill Michael?"

"Why would I kill Michael?" He replied.

"Er." She waved a pointed finger in the general direction of all his various injuries.

"He was just a little angry with me that's all." He chuckled. "This was just a temper tantrum. If he had wanted me dead, I would be dead."

"You indulge him too much." She crossed her arms over her chest. Not seeing the funny side of two bullet holes a broken rib and four more bruised.

"Jealousy? Really? It doesn't suit you." He smirked. "Why don't you go and see what he's up to for me?"

Sasha reached under the chair and picked up a pair of high heeled strappy wedge sandals. Slipping them onto her feet she stood up. "Can I at least shoot him a little bit?"

He gave her an indulgent smile and shook his head. She cocked her head to one side, running an appraising gaze over his chest, tightly bandaged to support his ribs. "How about his little friends then?"

He held out an arm inviting her in, as she lent over he planted a light kiss on her forehead. "Soon. I promise."

A large smile came to her face, she kissed him back hard on the lips before moving away. "I'm going to hold you to that Larry." She stopped at the door and blew him a kiss, before climbing up the steps leading to the deck of the hundred and fifty foot luxury yacht.

She passed one of the deck hands. Grabbing the man's arm in a vice like grip, long sharp nails digging into his skin. "Go clean up his room." She ordered. "Oh, just a warning. If he opens another wound I'll open one in your hide to match." She let him go and without a backward glance walked off the yacht and onto the marina path.


	2. Chapter 2

**Out of the ashes.**

**.**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter, and for those who have mark it as a favourite story or put it on their story alerts. Sorry for the delay. I hope you all continue to enjoy.**

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**Chapter two. **

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The loud ringing coming from the house phone broke Madeline Westen's concentration. She was trying out a new yoga DVD. A friend from her seniors stretching class had lent her the disk, claiming it worked wonders on strengthening her core muscles. Struggling to her feet she managed to pick up the handset on the tenth ring.

"Hello?" She huffed, already reaching for the nearby packet of cigarettes and lighter.

"Ma." That one word caused her to pause, the cigarette in her mouth left unlit. The hand holding the lighter had dropped back on to the counter. "It's me. I – I'm sorry about - well you know. Is it alright if me and Fi come over later for some lunch? Fi's got something to do afterwards but I thought I might stay for a while." She could tell he was making the call under protest. He had reverted to his safe, cool flat tone of voice.

It didn't matter, not to her. "Oh that would be lovely." She replied not bothering to hide how overjoyed she was to hear from him. "I have a chicken in the fridge." She began to fuss.

"There's no need, we'll pick something up." He spoke quickly.

"Nonsense Michael, a little home cooking will do you the world of good." She trailed off, she was heading towards the dangerous territory of discussing his health. "It'll do us all good." She rapidly added. "What time are you coming over?"

"One, is that ok?"

"I'll see you both then. Mi.." The phone went dead, he had hung up on her. She stood there for a moment, before placing the handset back on the cradle, and lighting up her cigarette. He was coming over, it was a start.

…...

Michael sat out on the balcony, still in his pyjama pants. An empty yoghurt pot lay on the table next to him, the spoon dropped inside to stop it blowing away. His cell phone nearby, switched off to stop any return calls.

It was a cool fresh morning, even from a distance it was possible to see the waves were breaking hard on to the empty beach. The strong breeze blowing in off the Atlantic was sending the clouds racing across the sky heading inland. A not so nice day in Miami.

The stormy weather suited his mood, he had just put his phone down on his mother. She was expecting them for lunch. He lifted his legs up on to the safety railing crossing one ankle on top of the other. Laying his head back against the padded head rest, he closed his eyes wishing the whole day was over and done.

He hadn't spoken more than a few words to his mom since the visit to the hospital to get the results of the CT scan. He remembered the way she had hung on every word the doctor spoke, her head bobbing up and down in agreement with his diagnosis. The big beaming smile followed by her cheery voice in his ear setting every one of his over stretched nerves on edge.

"Isn't this good news honey." She had patted him on the thigh.

He had looked from his mother who sat to his left over to Fiona and Sam who had been sat on his right side. They had all wore that same relieved expression. Hadn't anybody heard what was said? This specialist, organized by a friend of Sam's had just told them, he expected Michael to recover but was unsure how long it would take. There was also a chance his condition would remain unchanged. In short the doctor wasn't sure if or when he would get better.

He remembered accepting a prescription for anti anxiety meds to help him sleep and control his mood swings. An offer to set up counselling sessions, which he refused, even after the doctor tried to explain the benefits of talking though any fears or concerns he had. The referral to see an occupational therapist was treated the same way, he would cope on his own.

"Michael I don't see why you're being so difficult." Madeline had told him, trotting alongside as he had rushed to get out of the building.

"I don't want help Ma, I want to be left alone to think about it." He had answered her as calmly as he could manage, hoping she would take the hint.

"What's there to think about Michael. If you're going to get better you need to rest completely and stop running round getting shot at or blown up." It seemed everybody had an opinion on what was best for him, regardless of what he wanted for himself.

Unable to take any more he turned on her and let rip. In the middle of the hospital car park, all his recent frustrations fuelling his anger, he started to yell at her. What could she possibly know about what he was going through, and why hadn't she shown this much concern all those years ago when his dad was pounding on him?

He had continued in the same vein until, Fiona had caught hold of Madeline and pulled her away to safety. As Sam had tried to calm him down. He remembered at some point punching Sam, before storming off.

…...

Fiona, fresh from the shower came up behind him, leaning over to plant a kiss on his lips, dripping water over him from her still damp hair.

"How did it go?" She asked, guessing he had made the call from his pensive expression.

"About as well as I expected." He grumbled, opening his eyes to stare up at her. Wiping droplets of water off his face and chest.

"It'll be fine." She told him with a reassuring smile, moving round to rest her back against the railing she dropped her hand on to his leg, her fingers idly drawing circles on his exposed ankle.

He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "This can't continue Fi."

She looked at him, waiting for more.

"I can't sit on my ass indefinitely. I've got to work." He told her.

"You have plenty of money Michael you.."

"No, I mean I want to work, all this sitting around is driving me crazy." He dropped his legs on to the floor and sat forward.

"The doctors .."

"I don't care what the doctors said." He was on his feet now, standing next to her his knuckles turning white as he gripped the railing, his arms rigid and his head dropped forward.

"What about the feds?" She tried to reason with him. "Agent Smith warned you to keep a low profile. That everything has to be reviewed again. Because of what happened." She turned, wrapping her arms round one of his, stroking the hard bunched up muscles that lay under her hands.

"I'm not talking about taking on some big complicated job Fi. But you could at least let me back you up." He tried to explain.

Fiona allowed herself a small smile, that's what had him worked up. He wanted to go on whatever job Sam had supposedly lined up.

"Next time." She promised him. "what time did you tell your mom we'd be over?"

"I said we'd be there for lunch." His expression was still frosty.

"How about you go have a shower and get dressed and we head over to the gun range for an hour?" She could do with letting of some steam herself.

"Fine." He muttered. That was something else that irritated him, both Fiona and Sam had demanded he remained unarmed unless at the range.

As he pushed himself upright and turned to go inside, she stopped him. "Michael."

She caught hold of his wrist bringing him back round to face her. She reached up to touch his lips with her own, sucking on his lower lip until he returned her kiss. It didn't last long as he pulled away after a moment. "I'll speak to Sam about getting us an easy job, something that won't show up on the feds radar." She promised.

He gave her a small smile, just a faint curve of the lips. "I should go, and get ready." He told her.

She watched him walk away, trying to work out what was going through his mind. At night, in his sleep he clung to her desperately in need of close contact, every emotion on display as he was racked with nightmare after nightmare.

Then during the day he fought to keep himself closed off, hiding behind a mask of indifference. She had the anxiety meds in a kitchen drawer, and had made several attempts to make him take them. All to no avail.

He told her he wasn't messing up his head any more than it was already, and if he was called in by the FBI for a medical it would show up in the blood tests. She didn't have the heart to tell him that any medical would soon pick up on his mental state, as soon as they put him under any pressure.

…...

Madeline watched from her sun room window, waiting for Michael's car to turn on to the drive. She nervously puffed away on one cigarette after another, it had been five days since she had seen him. It wasn't a long time when compared to the months that would pass in between calls when he worked away. But over the last couple of years she had grown used to the daily calls or visits.

She got to her feet as the charger pulled up on the drive, and had the door open before they had reached the steps. Fiona had her arm linked through his, a big smile on her face, trying extra hard to appear jolly as Michael walked at her side with a scowl on his face.

"Madeline." Fiona kissed the older woman on the cheek, and then held out a bowl covered with cling film. "Cucumber salad."

"Oh that will be lovely." Madeline beamed and returned the peck on the cheek. "Come on inside. I've a chicken in the oven, it should be nearly ready."

After dropping the salad bowl on to the kitchen counter Madeline turned to Michael who had silently followed the two women inside. "Michael." She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest. "It's good to see you."

She felt a little warm glow when he returned the hug, even though it was only for a couple of seconds before he broke the contact. But it was more than he had given her the last time she had seen him. "Ma." He greeted her, giving her arms a gentle squeeze before moving away.

"Michael was wondering if you had any little jobs that needed doing?" Fiona broke the silence. "You know something to help keep him busy."

"Well." Madeline looked from Fiona to Michael and back again. Fiona was using her to keep Michael occupied while she went off somewhere. "That last storm left the garden a mess." She didn't care, she would get to spend a few hours alone with her son. "And the VCR has been playing up. Sam thought I might need to upgrade. But I'm sure Michael could fix it."

She pretended not to hear Michael's groan of protest, she was going to help get him back on track. Back to what they had before the car crash that had taken him away. He was closing himself off, she could see it even if Fiona and Sam were choosing to ignore what was happening.

..

He did try to enjoy the visit, the meal wasn't as truly awful as he was expecting. He kept quiet for the most part, letting Fiona and his mom's chatter go over his head. He really didn't have much to say, he didn't want to talk about how he was doing, and he already knew how Fiona and his mother felt about him trying to get back to work.

Because of that he didn't think admitting he was looking into Ross Dawson and Palisade Logistics whenever he got any time alone would go down well. So best to keep quiet, try to enjoy the meal and get through the afternoon as quickly and painlessly as possible.

It was nearly two thirty when Fiona announced she needed to get going, Madeline moved back to let them say goodbye. Watching from the kitchen it was obvious to Madeline how much her son was relying on Fiona at the moment, his eyes stayed on her virtually the whole time. His hand or arm would brush against her body at any opportunity, it was sweet to watch but worrying as well. She feared his attachment was masking what was really going on.

…...

Fiona came out of the house and got into the charger heading towards the loft. It felt wrong leaving Michael behind, almost like she was abandoning him. In the last two weeks they had rarely been apart. Maybe for an hour or two when he went running each day and a few occasions when she had gone out for a short while just for a break. She just hoped when she came back he was still there and Madeline's house was still in one piece.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she failed to notice a Lincoln town car following her at distance. Parking up on the road outside the nightclub. She got out, waved briefly at Oleg the club owner who was making his way across to a row of dumpsters, before hurrying towards the metal steps leading the loft.

Oleg finished dropping the trash in to the large bins and turned back to the club when he noticed a car parked up nearby. He dropped back out of sight when he spotted the driver, his heart pounding in his chest. His mind was frantically trying to think of what he had done to deserve a visit from Sasha Perovic, Russian FSB assassin.

Unable to come up with anything, he had after all been living very quietly since leaving his homeland. He took another look, Perovic was watching Michael Westen's loft.

…...

Sam was watching football on a portable TV when Fiona came through the door. "So, what's so important you can't tell me over the phone." She demanded walking over to the fridge bringing out two beers. Handing one to Sam she sat down facing him. "Well?"

Taking his time opening the beer and then taking a long sip before speaking. "How's he doing?" He saw Michael most days, but he also knew his friend was good at hiding injuries and this time there was no outward sign that could be monitored.

"Better." She answered. "He's getting bored though, if we don't find him something to do soon, he'll probably start looking for a job himself."

"I'll listen out for something simple." He told her while reaching under the counter and coming up with folder. "This is what I wanted to show you."

Fiona flipped the cover open, her eyes skimming through the information. "How about you give me the highlights." She suggested.

"Ok. As you know I've been doing some digging in to that mess, we all got dragged in to with Ross Dawson. Trying to find out what Larry was up to." Fiona knew he had been spending all his free time trying to find out who Larry had been working for, he must have found out something big to bring her in.

Sam pulled out a series of photos and documents. "If we take what Mike told us about Palisade Logistics as fact. They're a multi national shipping company who have both government and military contracts. Which they've been using to hide their support to Vaughn's little empire, and this Dawson fella has some sort of information he's hiding from the feds."

"Sam. Do I have to remind you Michael is alone with Madeline." Fiona put in, impatient to get back.

"Ok, I get the message, the highlights only. Mike was sent into the Dawson house to retrieve Palisades financial records. He was sidetracked by this photo of Management." Sam placed the photo from the house down on the counter. "If you look close you can make out the whole thing has been photo shopped."

Fiona held the photo up, noticing the faint discrepancies in the background. Sam handed her another photo, this one of the same man looking younger and dressed in a suit. "It took me a while to figure out how Larry would know to use this man's face. Meet Robert Devereaux, ex CIA spy master, in charge of covert ops throughout the Soviet Block during the late seventies and early eighties. Larry Sizemore's old boss."

"Larry works for management, he helped burn Michael?" Fiona gasped.

"No, I can't see Larry working for some shadow agency. He never was a team player. I think he got hired just for this one job. With his organization falling apart Management is using whatever assets he can still muster."

"The feds are watching Dawson. Presumably still trying to get him to hand over those financial records. And we can't tell Michael about Larry's connection to Management so what do you want to do about it?"

"This isn't all I've got sweetheart." Sam answered smugly. "I know where Larry was staying before Mike shot him, fancy coming with me to check the place out?"

"It's a two week old lead Sam." She exclaimed, glancing at her watch.

"He was hit bad he might not have had time to clear it out and it's the closest we've ever been." He urged.

"Fine but right this minute I'm going to head back to Madeline's. If everything has gone well I'll meet you later tonight."

"Remember not a word to Mike. Once he finds out there's no way he'll back off."

She nodded her head and dropped the empty beer bottle into the bin. "I'll call later." She promised heading for the door.

Outside Fiona walked towards the charger, her eyes down searching the inside of her bag for the keys. A figure stepped in front of her, causing her to stop and look up, her hand closing around her gun. She fell to the ground, the last thing she saw a pair of very pale grey eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Out of the ashes.**

**.**

**Chapter three. **

**.**

Ten minutes after Fiona left, Sam checked the contents of the fridge and decided he needed to make a quick trip to the nearby grocery store. As he stepped outside on to the top step he froze in place. Across the street, next to the canal he could see the Charger, but no sign of Fiona. He almost dropped his phone getting it out of his pocket, pressing Fiona's number on the speed dial he spat out a curse as the call went straight to voice mail.

After turning back to lock the door, Sam ran down the steps and searched the immediate area. All the time re-dialling Fiona's number, finding nothing to give him a clue to what had happen. He brought up Michael's number without thinking, but just managed to stop himself pressing the send button.

Telling Michael something had happened to Fiona was something he was going to have to do face to face. And he wanted to at least have something more than, 'Fi's gone', to tell his friend when he saw him. Even as he jumped in his car and drove off, he was making phone calls, pulling in every favour he was owed.

…...

Michael checked the kitchen clock for the third time in ten minutes. It was already four thirty, she had been gone for two hours. That was two hours too long as far as he was concerned. So far he had repaired a wooden trellis supporting a tall bougainvillea which had of course also needed it's long thorny tendrils tying back in place. Then after getting all the loose leaves and thorns out of his skin, hair and clothes. He had moved on to trying to figure out why his mother's antique VCR refused to work. Eventually after much cursing under his breath he disconnected it completely and thrown it in the trash.

Madeline gasped as her treasured VCR was unceremoniously discarded. "Michael!" She shrieked, heading for the bin.

He had forgotten about the pleasures of helping his mother with her little household chores. "It's out dated Ma, just stick to using the DVD player." He informed her, inspecting a cut on his finger caused by catching it against the circuit board.

"But all my favourite programmes are on video. What am I meant to do with all the tapes I've got?" Madeline whined, rescuing her machine from the bin. "Can't you take it back to Fiona's and check it over again?" She placed it down carefully in front of him.

He was leaning forward over the kitchen counter, all his weight on his hands. "It's not going to make any difference.." He grimaced, the beginnings of a headache building. Tiny needles of tension just behind his eyes, causing him to squint.

"Please Michael." She wheedled, catching hold of his arm. "Can you just try? For me?"

He shut his eyes for a moment before standing up, a long suffering look on his face. "I'll tell you what. How about tomorrow I take you out and buy you a new one?"

"You really can't repair this one?" She asked.

"It's over twenty years old mom. It's had it." Pushing it away he looked at the clock again, and then doubled checked his wristwatch. "Where the hell is she?" he muttered. She had to be punishing him for something.

…..

Sasha had kidnapped Fiona on a whim. Michael Westen's little girlfriend had just looked like such an easy target out in the open, not paying the slightest bit of attention to her surroundings. Why Larry had not just killed these people years ago was beyond her understanding. But then again he could be such a big softy at times. She smiled at thought of how he was going to react to this development, licking her lips in anticipation.

Arriving back at the marina, she drove up to the security gates and through to her covered parking space. Staying inside the car she got out her phone and pressed the speed dial.

"I'm in the car park. Send some one to collect my bags." Sitting back in her seat she waited, her long manicured nails tapping impatiently on the dashboard. Finally she spotted one of the crew jogging towards her. Getting out of the car she opened the trunk, pointing to a large suitcase.

"Take that up to the yacht." She watched as the man struggled with the suitcase, getting it out without damaging the material on the lip of the trunk. Once he had it out safely she turned to walk along the jetty leaving him to follow behind.

As soon as she stepped on board her eyes narrowed, and her expression became hard. Marching up on to the upper deck. She stopped in front of Larry, her arms crossed over her chest. "What are you doing out here?" She snapped.

He was lying on a sun lounger, a copy of Guns and Ammo resting on his lap and a cigar clenched between his teeth. "I'm resting Sasha, getting a bit of sun." He explained as if talking to a child. "No need to start killing the crew." He added with a smirk, remembering the crews reaction to him getting out bed and demanding they assist him out on deck.

He carefully moved into a sitting position, sliding his sunglasses down off his head and over his eyes. "Look, no more wounds to be sewn up." He blew out a cloud of smoke before stubbing the cigar out in the nearby ashtray.

She continued to stare at him for a moment, checking his body over herself. "I have a present for you. But I'm not sure that you deserve it." She continued to scowl.

Larry peered round her to see one of the crew wheeling a large suitcase on board. He gave her a quizzical look. "What is it?" Sasha had a strange sense of humour, there was no telling what she might consider a present. It could be anything from a nuclear warhead, to an expensive designer aftershave.

"You can't open it here. Take it into the salon." She ordered the crewman. "And be careful, don't damage the case."

'So not the aftershave.' Larry thought.

"The Dawsons are dead, by the way. It was on the news. The police are investigating, they died in suspicious circumstances apparently." He drawled, as he picked up his crutches and struggled to his feet.

"I told you I knew how to do my job. Now come, open your present." She kept a close eye on him as they went inside.

The case had been placed on a mahogany table in the middle of the room, laid on its side ready to be opened. Sasha stood back as Larry cautiously unzipped and then flipped the lid open. He stared at the contents dumbfounded, his complexion going from pale, to flushed red with anger.

"What the hell were you thinking!" He sputtered, beyond furious he was barely able to get the words out. Dropping one of the crutches to the floor he produced a butterfly knife from his pocket, twirling the handle around making the blade flick out.

"You thought I'd be happy about this!" He raged pointing the knife at the suitcase contents. "I told you to watch them not.." Too angry to continue speaking, he jabbed the knife in her direction.

"I was bored." She explained. Unaffected by his temper she dropped down into one of the comfy chairs that was scattered around the room. "For two weeks all I do is watch them. Now if you don't want your present throw it over the side." She did however notice his cold calculating expression, and the way he was pointing the knife towards her. "And put that thing away, killing me will only add to your problems."

He stared at her in disbelieve. Slowly drawing himself up to his full height, he took a deep breath and fixed her with a murderous gaze. The knife he had been pointing in her direction dropped to his side, and began to rapidly tap against his leg. "Killing you would be too quick." He snarled.

She rose gracefully to her feet and glided to his side. Her hand closed around his wrist, halting the movement of the knife. Leaning in very close she spoke directly into his ear, her voice low and husky. "Are you flirting with me Larry?"

He took a half step away from her, pulling his wrist out of her grip. Clearing his throat, he got back to business. "Is she dead?" He asked, a flick of his wrist and the blade disappeared back inside the handle.

"I used a stun gun, and then gave her a dose of ketamine so we probably have a little while until she's conscious."

"You realize Michael is going to be out for blood because of this?" Larry lent over the case, staring at Fiona's curled up form. Trying to think of some way to turn the situation to his advantage.

Sasha moved to join him she loved to watch Larry's expression as his brain began to whirr, plotting how he could manipulate any situation to his advantage. "He doesn't know who has her. I bet he doesn't even know she's missing yet." She whispered in his ear. "Last time I saw him. He was gardening with his mommy." She added with a sneer.

"Oh but he'll suspect, and I can tell you from my last meeting with him. He's not quite as forgiving as he's been in the past."

"He'll forgive me." Sasha stated with confidence. "He always does."

"It was never forgiveness Sasha. He's no different to anybody else you manage to piss off. Nobody wants to deal with the fallout from the rest of your family." Sasha's father once a KGB general, now head of one of the largest criminal families in Russia.

"It doesn't matter what you call it. He won't kill me." She sat back, a confident smile on her face.

Larry returned the smile, he had an idea. "You're right, he would at least be cautious about attacking you."

A slow smile lit up her face. "So you're no longer angry with me?" She pouted.

"No I'm still angry, but I might have a way to make this work." He answered.

"Well then we'd best get her settled in before she wakes. Unless of course you want me to kill her?"

"No. She's caused me enough trouble over the years, I want her alive to witness this."

…...

It was five thirty and there was still no sign of Fiona. Madeline watched as Michael paced around the house. He had tried to ring her, but only got her voice mail. He had then tried Sam and the call had just rung with no answer.

"If they're on a job, they may not be able to answer their phones." Madeline told him, trying to help.

He sent her a look loaded with contempt. "Thank you mother." He ground the words out. "I hadn't thought of that." He finished one more circuit of the room before turning to her. "Give me your keys I'm going over to the loft."

"Fiona said you were to wait here, and she said not to give you the car keys under any circumstances."

He stared at her, a little shocked. "O-kay." He spoke slowly. "I'll just have to break the locks, your choice." He turned away, heading for the side door and out to the garage.

She gave in, knowing full well he was about to take her car regardless of her consent. Reluctantly she handed the keys over. He gave her a soft smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Thank you." He pressed a kiss on her forehead before heading out of the door.

He was half way to the loft when he realized he was unarmed. He thought about turning round and going to one of Fiona's storage units. He could break in and get what he wanted, she'd be furious of course and he would probably be at risk of a bruise or two for stealing her property. But then again they should answer their phones when he called and stop trying to keep him out of the loop.

He slowed to take the turning that would lead to her nearest weapons stash, but then decided no. He would be fine, he was going to the loft. If they weren't there and it became necessary, he could arm himself from Sam's supply.

He relaxed when he spotted the charger still parked up outside the nightclub. Leaving his mother's car parked nearby he jogged over to the rusted metal gates that led to the loft. Sam's car was gone, they had to still be out on the mystery job.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he dropped down and pulled out his wallet, taking out one of Fiona's hair grips which he kept for these occasions. It was a matter of a few seconds for him to break in. The place was deserted, the bed unmade, with an empty pizza box lying on top of the rumpled sheets. Across the room on the work bench were empty beer bottles and a plain folder.

Taking the last remaining beer from the fridge, Michael sat down on one of the bar stools and flicked the folder open. Wondering exactly what sort of job Sam was working on. By the end of the first page, Michael was finding it hard to stay sat down. How could Sam do this and not tell him about it?

…...

For Fiona the first few seconds of consciousness was filled with raw panic and confusion. Her eyes flew open but she was in complete darkness, trying to draw in a deep breath she was struck instantly by the sensation of being suffocated. Some sort of cloth had been jammed into her mouth and was being held in place by another piece tied around her head. The feeling sent her heart racing so fast she thought it might burst out of her chest. Overwhelmed by fear she fought desperately to free herself.

Just before her actions caused her to black out, her survival instincts finally kicked in. She stopped fighting, this wasn't the first time she had woken up gagged and bound, she needed to use her head. Gaining a small measure of control over her terror, she concentrated on breathing through her nose. Forcing herself to relax and take slow, deep measured breaths.

The hopelessness of the situation caused her body to shudder, as the shock of it all began set in. She was alone, neither Michael or Sam would know where she was being held. Oh God Michael! How was he going to cope with this? She had to get out of wherever she was, as quickly as possible. That thought gave her something to focus on. Michael needed her, this was no time for hysteria.

She began to take stock of her situation, the chair she was sat on had to be bolted to the floor because it hadn't budged during her struggles. Her limbs were tied down from wrist to elbow and ankle to knee, by what felt like duct tape. Unable to see or hear anything, she concentrated on her other senses. She could feel a very slight movement, a swaying sensation. A boat, she had to be on a boat. But the movement was barely noticeable, so it had to be docked. At least that's what she hoped.

She sniffed, she needed to be strong, if she was going to get out of this. She sniffed again catching the scent of a woman's perfume. She remembered then, a woman's face in front of her just before the pain that she recognized had come from a stun gun.

So from knowing nothing and being terrified she was now pretty sure she was on a boat, and had been taken by a woman. It was a start. All the time she had been sitting there she was attempting to loosen her bonds rubbing her arms back and forth as much as she could. She would get free, beat the living daylights out of the woman who had grabbed her and get back to Michael. She started to feel better, no longer scared and with a beginnings of a plan things were looking up.

…...

Sam had been dodging Michael's phone calls for an hour, he hadn't been able to find out anything that gave a positive lead to who had taken Fiona. His gut told him it had to be Larry, but he had no proof. Larry couldn't have recovered from his injuries this quick, and he wouldn't go up against Michael from such a position of weakness. It just wasn't Larry's style.

Maybe it was one of Fiona's enemies, or word had got out that Michael wasn't at his best and one of the many people who wanted his head was making a move. There was just so many possibilities. His phone signalled an incoming text message.

_I'm at the loft. Where are you? And what the hell have you been up to?_

Sam began cursing, Michael had obviously read the file he had left out and now he was going to have to drop the rest of the days bad news on him as well. With a sigh Sam sent a message back.

_I'm on my way. _Then he switched his phone off.


	4. Chapter 4

**Out of the ashes. **

**Sorry for the delay. Thank you for all the lovely reviews I hope you continue to enjoy.  
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Chapter four.

.

Michael was losing all patience, he had been trying to get hold of Fiona or Sam since a little after four thirty. It was now almost six thirty and he hadn't managed to talk to either of them. He had filled Fiona's voice mail with everything from polite inquiries into how long she was going to be away, to needy little messages followed by not so endearing demands for attention and finally bad tempered rants. Now the mail box was full and he still hadn't heard a word from her. Sam was no better, his phone just continued to ring out, he must have put it on silent.

All he wanted was a few words from them, just to let him know where they were and when they would be back. He was used to being in charge, being in the centre of any action and in control of any situation. They had no idea how hard it was for him take a back seat.

It was bad enough being sidelined because of an injury. But he wasn't completely incapacitated, they could have let him help out. There was no need to keep him completely in the dark.

Finally he couldn't take any more and as a last resort he angrily tapped out a text message. Sending it to both of them.

_I'm at the loft. Where are you? And what the hell have you been up to?_

It wasn't only the lack of communication that had him riled up, it was that damn folder Sam had left sat on the counter. They had been actively hunting Larry, and had discovered the identity of Management. Something he hadn't been able to do himself. But instead of sharing the knowledge, they were obviously acting on their own.

That niggling feeling always lurking in the back of his mind had rushed to the front, flooding him with doubts. He had let them down too many times. They didn't trust him any more. He was no longer reliable.

His phone signalled an incoming message.

_I'm on my way._

'On my way.' That was it? Michael swore under his breath.

Snatching up his phone, he called Sam back. The call went straight to voice mail. With a snarl the phone flew across the room, skittering across the floor before coming to a stop under the stairs. Breathing heavily Michael lent forward over the kitchen sink, he could feel beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead.

After a moment he pushed away from the sink, turning around his eyes fixed on the folder still on the counter. After all this time the old man was still pulling his strings, the folder was ripped to pieces the contents scattered about the room like confetti.

He stood looking at the damage breathing heavily, this was the reason why Sam had kept him in the dark. This was why Fiona didn't want him working. He knew he was better than this, and that was what made it all so frustrating. He knew what he was doing, but just couldn't stop himself.

He stalked across the room to rescue his phone taking a seat on the second step of the stairs he rested his head in his hands, this was no good. He couldn't carry on like this much longer. He needed to get himself under control, before he hurt somebody.

The sound of a car door shutting made his head snap up, he could hear footsteps on the stairs leading to the door. A wave of relief swept over his body, the tension disappearing from his muscles leaving him feeling weak and light headed.

…...

Sam stopped his car a block away from the loft and switched the engine off. He really wished he didn't have to complete the journey. He had searched around the Charger and found nothing. He had banged on the doors of the night club, hoping somebody might have seen what happened. But again he got nothing, nobody came to his shouts and fist pounding. Looking up and down the street he had realized the nearest traffic cameras were at the junction onto the main road. So he had jumped into his car and while he drove off heading towards the last address he had for Larry Sizemore he had made phone calls.

He rang Barry, Seymour and everybody else he could think of, asking them to find out who was in town who might have a grudge against Michael or Fiona. He rang his buddies in the traffic division to ask them to find out what vehicles were near the loft in the ten minute gap between Fiona leaving and him discovering she hadn't made it to her car. He rang every hospital in the area asking if anybody matching Fiona's description had been brought in. Yet in the two hours he had been frantically running around he had come up with nothing.

Everybody said the same thing, there was plenty of people in town who had reason to dislike Michael or Fiona but nobody with the nerve or the skill to take them on. The traffic cameras had shown at least eight possible vehicles in the time frame, chasing down the cars owners was going to take some time he was going to have to be patient. Then there was Larry's last known abode, another dead end, the place had been burnt out a week earlier even the perimeter walls were reduced to rubble.

Every bone in his body told him Larry was involved, but there was no solid evidence and the only lead they had on the devious sociopath was a dead end. So now Fiona had been missing for over two hours and he had nothing to tell Michael.

He knew it had been wrong not to call his friend as soon as he guessed what had happened. Under normal circumstances he would have made the call instantly. Under normal circumstances he could have trusted Michael to deal with the situation in a calm professional manner. But calm was a word that Michael seemed to have forgotten the meaning of at the moment.

Sam started up the car again, he was delaying the inevitable Michael deserved to be told the whole story. Sam just hoped his friend would listen long enough before punching him in the face and storming out. He pulled into his usual parking spot next to the metal staircase, and got out slamming the door shut.

"Ok, let's get this over with." He muttered and headed up the stairs.

…...

Sam opened the door, Michael was sat on the stairs that led to the small raised platform. He thought his friend looked to be on the verge of collapse. Red rimmed eyes stared up at him, the welcoming smile that had started to appear faded when Sam shut the door behind him.

"Where's Fi?" Michael asked, he sounded more curious than upset.

"She's been taken, Mikey." Sam told him speaking softly. "I'm sorry, it happened about about two hours ago, I've been out trying to get..."

"Taken?" Michael asked sharply, his mouth forming a thin straight line.

"I'm sorry brother I didn't see who grabbed her, I've got the word out everybody is looking for her.."

"Where were you?" The accusation came out of a clenched jaw, Sam could see Michael was fighting to remain calm.

"I was in here. She walked out and couldn't have made it as far as the Charger. I came out ten minutes later and saw the Charger was still here. I've been out trying to find her."

"What were you up to? What was the job?" Michael still hadn't moved, his brow was furrowed and he was pinching the bridge of his nose. Sam licked his lips, waiting for the explosion he knew was going to come. There was an atmosphere building in the space between them.

"There wasn't a job. I'd asked Fi to come over so we could talk about the Larry situation." There was no point trying to hide what they had been up to, the folder and all the documents and photos were shredded and all over the floor.

Michael looked up, there was pain registering on his face, but also anger. His eyes had narrowed, his mouth a thin straight line. Sam took an involuntary step back. "You don't go looking for Larry. You stay out of his way." Michael growled, he was on his feet now moving with a purpose. "If Larry thought .."

"If Larry saw us as a threat he would have killed Fi, or contacted you to warn us off." Sam answered. He kept his eyes on Michael who was going through a drawer under the work bench coming up with a hammer and chisel. "Mike, what're you doing?"

Ignoring the question Michael dragged a chair over to the doors leading out to the balcony. Climbing on to the chair he pushed the chisel blade against the door frame at the top and then hit it hard with the hammer. He changed position and repeated the process. Levering the frame away from the brick surround he reached into the gap and pulled out a small anti static envelope. Going back to the workbench he fiddled with his phone, removing the back and taking out the memory card with shaking fingers.

Sam watched as the other memory card was slipped in the phone and Michael scrolled through the numbers that came up on the display. Pressing send he waited, placing the phone on the counter with phone on loud speaker.

"Hello." Sam didn't recognize the voice.

"Put me through to Larry. Tell him it's Michael." He paced back and forth in front of the phone.

The line went dead, then came a few clicks. "Hey kid. You've got a nerve calling me." It was Larry, not sounding that happy for once.

"Where is she?" Michael snapped.

"Who?" Came the calm reply.

"You know damn well who. Fiona, I want her back."

"Oh." The line went silent for a moment. "Not me kid. You know how I feel about kidnappings not my style. Now if that's all I'm still resting up from being shot and having to jump out of window."

"Larry if I find out you're lying to me I'll rain down a hell.." His face was flushed red, he slammed his hands down hard on the bench on either sound of the phone.

"Yeah kid whatever you say." Uninterested in threats, Larry hung up.

Michael swung round, a snarl escaping his lips as his fist connected with the balcony door going straight through the wood.

"Jesus Mikey!" Sam exclaimed, coming round to check on what damage the younger man had done to his hand.

Michael jerked his bloody hand away, slipping it into his trouser pocket. "Did you check the cameras on the other side of the river?" He asked, already moving on.

"You mean that place you got the pictures of the bomber from? They're shut at the moment. No way of getting in there until after dark." Sam replied, trying to get his head round the fact that Michael had a way of contacting Larry that he had kept hidden from them all.

"What does that matter." He was back at the work bench, kneeling down searching through the drawer dropping tools into a small canvas bag.

"Mike what are you doing?" Sam asked.

Michael was back on his feet. "I'm going over to Evergreen storage and getting the video feed from their cameras."

"They've armed security guards over there, at least leave it until it's dark." Sam told him, not liking the way things were going.

"You're right. I need a gun." Michael answered, looking around the loft for Sam supply of armaments.

"Oh no, not until you tell me what you're planning." Sam stood in front of the door blocking the exit, his arms folded over his chest.

Michael stared at him the look was cold and calculating, disguising the red hot rage which was bubbling just under the surface. He was almost quivering with the need to let loose.

"I'm getting her back by whatever means necessary. Either help me or stay out of my way."

"You're not thinking things through brother, breaking in to that storage facility in daylight without a plan is crazy. What about that armed security guard?" Sam kept his tone calm and reasonable but he didn't move away from the door.

"That's why I want a gun Sam. Now if you're not going to give me one." He moved fast, closing the distance between them, in two long steps followed by a rapid spin. Sam just managed to get his arms up to deflect the reverse kick that would have broken a rib or two if it had landed. But he had no time to congratulate himself as Michael was already following up the kick with a vicious back fist. The blow caught Sam on the cheek, breaking the skin.

Ignoring the pain Sam punched out at Michael's exposed ribcage. They broke apart, Michael crouched ready to continue the attack, holding his elbow in close to his side protecting his bruised ribs. Sam breathing heavier, his eyes fixed and focused on his opponent.

"Mikey.. Do you honestly believe.. Rampaging around Miami waving a gun about.. Is going to get Fi back?" Sam paused, trying to gauge what effect his words were having. "You've been warned to keep a low profile. To stay out of trouble. Shooting security guards to get hold of a video feed is only going to end up with you thrown in the deepest hole the feds can find."

Michael didn't move, his eyes hadn't lost their predatory glare and his muscles were still tensed ready to explode into action.

"What I'm saying is, I'll help you get in there, but after dark. You're not going to get Fi back if you're under arrest." Sam straightened up still cautious but he could see the signs of exhaustion on Michael's face and in the way his body was beginning to sag.

"I want a gun." Michael finally spoke.

"Not a problem." Sam agreed, he wasn't happy about the idea but if he didn't give Michael a gun he was only going to get one from one of Fiona's many stockpiles. "Now why don't we sit down have a bite to eat and rest up until it's dark."

"We go now, scout out the security. The sooner we have the tape the better." He was tired, but he couldn't stop until he had Fiona back and the cameras at Evergreen storage was their best hope of getting an idea on who they were chasing.

"Mike." Sam began to speak when there was a knock on the door. Both men froze, just for a second then Sam pulled his handgun from the back of his waistband. Another knock this time louder.

"Sam." There was a pleading tone in Michael's voice, he held out his left hand, the right one bruised and swollen from his assault on the door.

With a sigh, Sam reached down and pulled out his spare gun from an ankle holster. "Whose there?" He shouted through the door, his gun cocked and ready to fire.

"Oleg, open up it is important."

…...

Fiona woke up as a light came on, at first she couldn't make out anything other than a milky white haze. Blinking rapidly, she started to make out shapes and shades then finally her vision cleared. She was in a small empty room, the curved shape to the corners and the rivets joining the separate panels together confirmed she was on a boat of some sort.

The pain radiating from her arms drew her attention, her hands were swollen and red, blood ringed the edges of the duct tape around her wrists. She must have rubbed her skin raw under the tape, it certainly felt that way. As she glanced down she realized she had been stripped down to her underwear.

The click of a door being opened and the sweet scent of the perfume she had smelt earlier drew her gaze upwards.

"Good evening." A woman stood in the doorway, blond hair framing an attractive face. Fiona guessed she was about forty years old with a trim figure. She had a look of somebody perfectly capable of looking after herself.

"Sorry, you can't answer can you." She smirked and moved into the room closing the door behind her. "My name is Sasha." She introduced herself, leaning over she untied the gag and pulled the rag from Fiona's mouth.

"What do you want?" Fiona rasped the words out, her voice little more than a whisper.

"From you? Nothing." Fiona tensed as the woman combed her fingers through her hair. Unconcerned about how she was tearing through the tangles and knots.

"You're bait." She smiled at the analogy. "I imagine like a lot of bait you'll end up a bloody mess in the water when this is over." She dropped the long auburn locks she had just pulled out on to the floor.

Fiona tried to keep calm, if this woman was to be believed she was being used to trap Michael. "You're Russian aren't you? Who are you? FSB?"

"Bait doesn't get to ask questions." The slap rocked Fiona's head hard to the side. "Bait gets to be dangled in front of the trap." A punch this time, split open Fiona's lip and cut the inside of her mouth.

Bringing out her phone, Sasha took a photo of the damage she had done to her prisoner's face. "At least before you die you'll get to find out how much your lover is willing to do to try to save you."

Fiona watched as the woman left, door locking behind her. She shut her eyes and lowered her head as the lights went off again. As she sat in the dark she ignored the pain and began to move her arms again trying to free them from the tape.


	5. Chapter 5

**Out of the ashes.**

.

Chapter five,

.

"I don't understand why you have to leave." Sasha pouted, she lent against the door frame one arm across her chest. She was watching Larry struggle to pack a suitcase which lay open on their bed.

"You heard him, Michael's about to start tearing Miami apart searching for our little friend, and I intend on being right there to help him." He turned towards her, a wolfish grin in place. "As a concerned friend I can direct how close he gets to succeeding."

She returned his grin and came in to the room taking the pile of neatly folded shirts out of his hands. Placing them in the case, she reached for the pants he had laid out on the bed. "As the spy hunter you get to say where to hunt the spy." She finished his packing for him. "What about Axe?" She queried. "Isn't he going to be a problem?"

"Not for long. I don't see Samuel Axe having much of a future." Larry slipped on his jacket and reached for his crutches. "I'll be at the Epic. You can play, but don't kill our guest yet."

She followed him outside and made sure he was comfortable on the electric golf cart waiting to take him off the jetty. "There is a car at the gates waiting for you. I do not want this game of yours to take too long." She was still sulking.

"I know, you have a schedule to keep. Just remember to send Michael those photos early tomorrow morning."

"And you remember to watch your back." She countered.

.

The darkness didn't frighten or worry Fiona in the least, in some ways it was welcoming. Her head was pounding from the earlier ill treatment. Being hit by a stun gun was never pleasant regardless of what she may have said in the past. Then, whatever she had been given to keep her unconscious hadn't helped and finally the beating. At least being in the dark meant her eyes could rest, and hopefully her captors couldn't see what she was doing.

Regardless of the pain radiating from her head she kept up the constant movement in her arms trying to loosen the tape that held her immobile. They were going to kill her in the end, of that she was sure. The blond woman, Sasha had told her as much. A bloody end dumped at sea by the sound of it, but only after they had used her to get Michael to do their dirty work.

So ignoring the headache, and how sore her arms were becoming she continued to try and break free. The stale, heavy air in the room was sapping her strength, and she knew dehydration was going to become a problem. She also knew if she didn't get free soon she was going to end up to weak to escape. To keep herself going she thought about all the ways she was going to hurt Sasha and anybody else involved once she was loose.

She stiffened. Her arm had slid smoothly backwards, but she wasn't sure she hadn't imagined it. Catching her breath, she moved her arm again and by folding her thumb and smallest finger in to make her hand as narrow as possible. She managed to slide her whole arm out of from under the tape. Her heart began to beat faster, as she held her sore and bloody arm against her body. A body that was shaking with both pain and relief. Biting her lip, she forced herself to continue making her break for freedom. Feeling for an end of the tape she began to unwrap her other arm and then her legs. Finally free she sat sucking in the stale air, knowing she couldn't stop to rest.

Gathering up the last reserves of her strength she slowly stood up and tested her balance. Putting a hand out she found the wall and followed it towards where she thought the door was positioned. Running her hands over the metal door she soon realized she had no hope of sneaking out. A test of the handle told her all she needed to know. The only way that the door was opening was if somebody operated it from the other side.

Carefully, using her hands to guide herself around the dark room she checked it out as best she could. Sighing with disappointment at finding no windows, and no weapons, she sunk down on to the floor by the door. She was going to have to try and over power whoever next came into the room.

….

When Oleg had first spotted Sasha Perovic he had rushed straight back into his club and organized for his deputy manager to take over the running of his business. He then booked a months vacation over on the other side of the country.

It was only when he was on the way to the airport, his conscience made him take a detour. Michael had not only been a good tenant, he had been a good friend. He deserved to know who was taking interest in his home.

So Oleg found himself stood just inside the door to the loft, facing Sam Axe sporting a freshly cut cheek and Michael looking positively ill.

"Hey Michael I didn't realize you were here. I've not seen you around for a while." He also noticed both men were holding guns.

"What do you want Oleg?" Michael asked, he was resting back against the work bench.

Oleg paused for a moment. "This is difficult." He wiped a hand over his head. "Have you heard of a woman called Sasha Perovic?"

Michael's head snapped up, all signs of tiredness leaving his body. "What about her?" He was directly in front of Oleg now.

"She was here earlier, I saw her following your girlfriend. Fiona." He blurted the words out, conscious that Sam had taken hold of Michael's arm, as if to stop him launching an attack.

Michael's face lost all colour and he backed away. "You're sure?" He pulled free of Sam and retreated back to leaning against the bench. His face screwed up in thought.

"Yes, when I was Minister of Culture I saw both her, and her father at various official functions. If she is here for you. You should leave town."

"You didn't happen to see what car she was in?" Sam put in, Michael had gone quiet and seemed to be lost in his thoughts.

"A fancy black Lincoln, you should be careful, her reputation is as bad as yours Michael. Maybe worse." Oleg reached behind him, opening the door. "You should take my advice and leave." He was gone, jogging down the stairs in a hurry to get away.

"So who is she?" Sam asked, as he shut the door turning the key in the lock.

"She was Russian counter intelligence." Michael replied. "But last time I saw her she had quit and was working for her dad. You ever hear of General Perovic?"

Sam thought about it for a moment, the name sounded vaguely familiar. "Is he the one that's running all the smuggling between Georgia and Turkey?"

Michael nodded, he stood with his arms crossed over his chest and his head down not willingly giving up any more information.

So Sam pushed. "Why has she gone after Fi?"

"To get to me." Michael replied quietly.

"But why? Perovic is no longer KGB or FSB whatever you want to call it. What did you do to her?"

"We had a complicated.." He sighed, shaking his head unwilling to remember their previous encounters. Then he took a deep breath. "We've locked horns more than once. I think it started when she poisoned me in '92, and then I shot her boyfriend. It was an accident I was aiming at her but it was a very long shot in high wind. We ran into each other again in Chechnya. A few years after that she got close and put a knife in me, and I think the last time was in '05 when I stopped a deal she was putting through in Iran."

"So why hasn't she just shot you already? I mean especially in the last couple of weeks she must've had plenty of opportunities." Sam asked, guessing there was a lot more to the story than Michael was telling him.

Michael shrugged his shoulder's. "She's into playing mind games. If Oleg is right and it is her, you're going to need to be careful as well." He stood up straight rubbing his hands over his face hoping it would help clear the fog that was descending over his brain. "We still need that video feed to confirm it's her. Oleg hadn't seen her for years he could be wrong. If I go over to Evergreen, can you get on to your fed buddies and find out if they know if either Sasha or her brother Stefan are in town?"

"How about I make the calls, and then we'll both head over to get that video." Sam suggested.

"I'm too tired to keep fighting with you over this. So let me make it clear. It's Fi, I'm not going to rest or stop until she's back here. So let's just get on with it please."

Sam could see Michael was as good as dead on his feet, if he pushed it he would probably win. But he knew if he did that, in the end he would lose his friend. "Ok we'll go over there, you can scout the security while I make the calls and then we'll both go in. If it's safe. How does that sound?" He offered a compromise.

Michael picked up the tool bag and slipped Sam's spare gun into his waistband, then stood waiting to move. "That's a yes then." Sam spoke to himself unlocking the door they went down the steps.

.

Michael sat in the passenger seat of Sam's car, holding binoculars up to his eyes. Studying Evergreen Storage's single security guard make his rounds. Beside him Sam was making call after call, checking up on his contacts. Just from listening to the one side of the conversation Michael could tell that he was getting nowhere. Dropping the binoculars onto his lap, he blinked and then rubbed his tired eyes. _They were never going to find Fiona at this rate_. He sighed, bringing the binoculars back up to his eyes and trying to ignore how heavy they felt in his hands.

Sam finally had something, it was only a small something but better than the nothing they had before. A Lincoln town car had pulled out of the side road heading towards the city in the time period when Fiona went missing. It took some major promises for the future, but he talked his friend in traffic into following the car via the cameras to see where it finished its journey. Hopefully in a couple of hours they would have a location to start their search.

Putting his phone away after the last call Sam looked across to see Michael was sleeping, the binoculars had fallen onto his lap and his head rested against the door frame. Instead of waking his friend, Sam got out of the car as quietly as possible and went to check out the security set up himself. Michael needed to sleep, if he could do this job by himself he would.

Checking out the tool bag Michael had brought with him Sam pulled out the lock pick set. It had been a long time since he had used his breaking and entering skills, but there had been a time when he could have given Michael and Fiona lessons. It took him longer now but within a minute he had the gate unlocked and had slipped silently inside.

.

Michael woke to his phone ringing. Opening his eyes he looked about confused about where he was, and what was happening. Everything came flooding back to him as he realized he was looking out on a line of warehouses. It was dark outside, he must have been asleep for at least an hour, and he was alone in Sam's car. He threw his head back hard against the head rest, Sam had left him to sleep while he went off to get the recording by himself. He was half way out of the car when he turned back to the phone that was still ringing.

"Yeah." He growled.

"You took your time there Michael I nearly hung up on you." Came a far cheerier Larry than earlier on.

"What do you want Larry?" Michael demanded slumping back down in the seat.

"Your earlier call intrigued me. So out of the goodness of my heart, I've made some inquiries. It seems one of your exes is in town, that Russian who nearly killed you, the General's daughter."

"Perovic, Sasha Perovic. We know that." Michael snapped. "And she was never my girlfriend."

"That's it Perovic, and really?" Larry laughed. "She poisoned your breakfast kid. If you remember, if I hadn't come looking for you you'd have been dead." He laughed. "Now like I said she's in town, my guess is she has your present girlfriend."

"Do you know where she is?" Michael asked beginning to see a bit of hope.

"I can find out. Hasn't your pet FBI informant got anything for you?"

"We're working on it. Are you going to help?" Michael didn't believe Larry wanted to help get Fiona back, he was after something else.

"I help friends Michael. You want my help, we'll have to come to an agreement. Friends help each other and you sidelined me with your little stunt at the Dawsons." _And there it is_. Michael thought.

"You want me for a job? No, I'm not doing anything for anybody until Fi is back." He was breaking all the rules, showing how much he cared.

"Well I'm at the Epic Hotel, registered under the name of Carlton. Call me if you change your mind." Came Larry's reply.

"I'm not.." Michael got no further as the line went dead.

.

Sam came jogging back towards the car, thoroughly pleased with himself. The security guard was still doing his rounds totally oblivious to the fact, Sam Axe super spy had broken into the offices and made a copy of their security tapes. As he neared the car, his self congratulatory smile slipped. Michael was stood in front of the car, arms folded over his chest a grim expression on his face.

"Hey before you even start yelling. I have the information you wanted and nobody has been hurt." Sam spoke out, as he stopped in front of Michael and handed him the USB stick he had downloaded the information on to.

Michael looked at the drive turning it over in his hand. "Why didn't you wake me?" He asked.

"Because you need the rest Mike and this was something I could do on my own. Now let's get back to the loft and check out if Oleg is right about who took Fi."

They reached the loft in silence, Michael continuously toying with the drive. As Sam pulled through the metal gates and stopped next to the stairs Michael spoke.

"While you were gone Larry rang me offering to help. He told me he had found out Perovic was in town." He spoke softly, looking down at his lap.

"You're not considering going to him for help?" Sam just managed to stop himself yelling.

"He found out in a couple of hours, what we only got by luck. He could be useful."

Sam grabbed his friend's arm and pulled him round not believing what he was hearing. "Larry is probably involved that's why he knows about this woman."

Michael shook himself free and got out of the car. "If it is Perovic he could be an asset, he knows how she thinks."

Sam was out of the car now as well, his hands on the roof of the vehicle. "Don't do it brother, we're going to find her on our own. Another hour and we should know where the car went and then it'll just be a matter of planning the rescue."

He sighed with relief when Michael nodded. "Ok, we'll see where your lead take us. Let's go check this film, if it is her we're going to need more guns."

"It's the right thing to do. Even if he isn't directly involved, Larry would only help get Fi back if there was something in it for him." They were upstairs now, Michael plugging the drive into Sam's laptop.

"I've got the message Sam, can we drop it now?" He muttered, putting a hand over his mouth as he tried to stifle a yawn.

They ran through the files, slowing the film as the familiar sight of the Charger came into view. Michael froze the picture on the face of the woman who stood watching Fiona walk towards the loft.

"Well?" Sam asked when Michael didn't speak.

"It's her." He finally answered.

"So are you going to tell me exactly how bad this is." Sam opened the fridge and then remembered he had been on his way out to get supplies when he discovered Fiona was gone. "I tell you what, let's go to that bistro along the street and you can tell me all about it over a prime piece of steak and a beer."


	6. Chapter 6

**Out of the ashes.**

**.**

Chapter six,

.

_When you are playing the role of spy-hunter and the person you're hunting is yourself, the trail of evidence can lead anywhere you say it does. This works best when you don't have a nosy ex Navy SEAL undermining your every move._

Larry scowled, staring out over the balcony of his tenth floor suite in The Epic hotel, at what the brochures assured him were the breath taking views of the Atlantic ocean. The phone call to Michael had not gone quite as he had expected.

How had they found out about Sasha so quickly? And if they knew about her, what else had Sam Axe managed to dig up?

He didn't think for one minute Michael was running the investigation. He had a copy of the kid's medical reports. He knew Fiona and Axe were doing their best to protect Michael while he healed, and what was most telling was the fact he was letting them.

No, Michael wasn't up to working any of this out by himself, it had to be Axe. Sasha must have missed something, a camera or a witness. Which meant they also had to know what car she was driving.

Pursing his lips Larry picked up his phone. If he hadn't been injured there would have been a large pile of bodies building up with Sam Axe's corpse in pride of place.

"You missing me already?" Sasha answered the call. "I am touched."

"Michael already knew you took Fiona." He got straight to business. "You bungled the extraction Sasha, and that's bad tradecraft. Tidy up your mess before I have to do it for you."

"Don't threaten me Larry." The earlier teasing quality gone from her voice. "I thought you had this all worked out?"

"Well I obviously overestimated your ability to cover your tracks." He growled back at her. "He knows it was you, so he must also know your car and that's one step away from finding your location and then we're all in it." He lectured.

"I'll sort this out." She replied angrily.

"Be quick Sasha, because you do not want Michael turning up looking for Fiona."

"I'll be gone as soon as I can." She replied stiffly.

"Good. Make sure the car hire company lose your records and don't forget to send the photos. I want Michael begging for my help by morning." Larry was idly opening and closing the blade of his butterfly knife.

"I'll get some new shots, something that will get his attention." She didn't like to be criticized, somebody was going to have to pay for her displeasure.

…...

"You can tell me all about it over a prime steak and a beer." Sam's words echoed through Michael's head as if coming from a long way away.

Looking up Michael struggled to focus properly. "Sure." He agreed, squinting and rubbing his eyes. Fatigue was becoming harder mask as the day wore on.

Closing down the laptop, Michael pushed the bar stool away from the bench. Doing his best to ignore the stabbing pain building behind his eyes, he went to stand up. A wave of dizziness caused his legs to go out from under him. Managing to stay upright only because of his grip on the worktop he was grateful when Sam rushed to his aid.

"Mike?" Sam pushed the bar stool forward so his friend could sit down. "You ok?"

"I'm f..." Michael started to say then changed his mind. No point lying now. "I think I need to lie down." He admitted.

"You sure that's all it is?" Sam questioned, he was worried about how pale his friend's complexion had gone and the beads of sweat breaking out on his brow.

"Just tired." He swallowed. "I .." He paused, hating to have to give in. " I just need to rest. Give me an hour, I'll be fine."

"Ok then let's get you over to the bed and you can get some sleep." Sam slipped a shoulder under Michael's arm and assisted him over to the bed.

After covering him with a blanket, Sam pressed two fingers against Michael's jugular vein checking a pulse which was fast and shallow.

"Mike. I'll leave you alone in a minute buddy, I just need to be sure you're ok." He brushed off Michael's hand, which was weakly trying to knock him away.

He waited a couple of minutes and then checked again and was relieved when he could feel it beginning to slow and become stronger.

Satisfied that Michael was just sleeping Sam got out his phone to check in on his buddy in the traffic division. He was in luck, the car belonged to a rental company with offices next to one of the most prestigious marinas on South beach. They had somewhere to start their search in the morning.

Unwilling to leave his friend alone, Sam ordered in a pizza and started drawing up plans for the next day. They would visit the office first, find out the name Perovic was using and hopefully get the berth number for her yacht or a hotel name and room number.

By the time he had eaten and given Michael another check over just to make sure he wasn't slipping into unconsciousness. Sam decided it was time to get some sleep himself. Making a final sweep of the perimeter, and checking the locks on the main door and the balcony doors.

He stopped to run a hand over where Michael had punched a hole through the wood. None of this was good, he had to hope he could keep a lid on Mikey's temper until they got Fiona back.

…...

_Military firebombs are typically unstable, lethally toxic, and made from chemicals that are hard to find at the grocery store. The main ingredient in a homemade firebomb, on the other hand, is Styrofoam. A military demolition expert can put something together in a few hours. As can a FSB trained assassin._

Sasha was in the galley, the kitchen staff had been dismissed for the night. Wearing safety goggles and thick rubber gloves which reached up to her elbows she stood at one of the metal preparation tables. Holding a large glass mixing bowl filled with melted down styrofoam. As she kept the mixture moving with a wooden spoon in one hand she picked up an empty oxygen bottle. Carefully she emptied the contents of the bowl into the bottle and sealed the top.

Gently standing the bottle on the work surface she set about wrapping a line of detonator cord around the cylinder and finished it off by attaching a timer. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the finished device up and placed it into a hold all. Inside the holdall was lined by soft plastic containers filled with petrol.

With her craft project complete, Sasha slipped on a lightweight black jacket and covered her light coloured hair with a woollen hat then humming a little tune she left the yacht making her way along the jetty.

.

Half an hour later Sasha walked back on board the yacht, she wore the relaxed dreamy smile of a woman who had just planted a medium size fire bomb in a car rental office.

"Leave as quietly as possible. Take us about ten miles out and make a circuit, then head over to my father's villa." She ordered the captain and then turned to another member of the crew. "Did you get what I asked for?"

"Yes, it's by the side, two containers as requested."

She continued to smile, things were definitely looking up. Her bomb should go off just before daylight and now all she had to do was finish the arrangements for the rest of her early morning entertainment.

_If you have a prisoner you have left tied up and locked in a room alone for several hours, you have to assume that if you could break free of the restraints that they will too._

Stopping outside the door to the room containing the prisoner Sasha switched on the light to Fiona's cell. Waiting for a moment she slipped off her shoes and tied her hair back. Rocking her head back and forth a couple of times and shrugging her shoulders loosening off before she went to find out what the prisoner had done with her spare time.

.

The lights coming on brought Fiona to full alertness, crouching by the door she prepared herself to launch an attack. This would probably be her only chance of escape. As the door swung inwards she grabbed the edge and jerked it all the way open as hard as she could.

She was rewarded by the sight of Sasha stumbling into the room. Throwing herself forward Fiona brought her elbow up and then down hard into the others woman's back and then followed it up by delivering a hard kick to the abdomen.

With her captor down and winded, Fiona made her dash for freedom. Sprinting out of the door she ran up the nearest set of steps. She was on the deck of a large yacht, and she was out at sea. Her hair whipped about her face, as she frantically looked around trying to get her bearings.

Spotting the bright lights of the Miami shoreline in the distance, she ran to the side, and climbed up onto the top rail. Spurred on by Sasha's shouts for help, Fiona took a deep breath and launched herself like an arrow into the cold dark ocean.

The shock of hitting the frigid sea stole the air from Fiona's lungs and caused her muscles to lock up in shock. But she was desperate and determined, gritting her teeth she forced herself to ignore the pain and strike out for the faraway lights of the Miami coast.

"Stop!" She heard a female voice sing out.

The water was suddenly flood lit, the yacht's engine had stilled, the only sound the gently lapping waves. "Hey Fiona, two choices. Become bait earlier than I want, or come back on board." The voice floated across the water.

Small objects began to rain down all around her, and a horrible stench assailed her nostrils. Treading water Fiona looked around and gasped. They were throwing rotten bloody meat into the water. It wouldn't be long until the area would be full of sharks.

"One minute, and then we leave you here." Sasha sing songed the warning.

Fiona knew she had only one choice, admitting defeat she reluctantly swam back to the waiting boat and slowly climbed back on board. Sasha stood waiting for her, a triumphant smile fixed in place and it didn't waver as she delivered a blow to Fiona's face and then another to her stomach sending her sprawling onto the floor. A final kick to the jaw snapping her head back.

Producing her phone Sasha took another photograph. "Just think about what you're doing to Michael. What you are putting him through. If you really loved him you would behave and stop causing him all this heartache." Sasha taunted. "Tie her up and throw her back in the store room." This last part to the men who had joined her.

…...

Michael woke up groaning, his head felt like somebody was chipping away behind his eyes with an icepick. Forcing himself to swing his legs out of the bed and sit up he fought the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him. It had been a long time since he felt this bad.

The doctor's warning came back to him, stress would not only delay his recovery it could make things worse. But Fiona was missing and all they had to go on was a Lincoln rental, how could he not be stressed.

"Sam!" He called out looking around, he was alone, Sam must have gone out.

Rubbing his hands over his face and then through his hair he tried to clear his head. Reaching over he picked up his phone wanting to check the time. His heart started to beat faster, he had messages on his phone from Fiona's number. They had come through two hours earlier. Had she been trying to get hold of him and he'd missed her calls for help. With trembling fingers he accepted the messages.

It was photo messages, Fiona stripped down to her underwear, tied to a chair a bright red hand print on one cheek and a black eye on the other side. Her hair hung tangled about her tear streaked face. She looked exhausted and beaten down, but there was defiance in her eyes.

He traced the outline of her face with the tip of a finger. He pressed the key that brought up another photo, Fiona was lying on a wooden floor her hair and body drenched in water. Sea water he guessed, there was salt deposits on her body and what might be sea weed in her hair. Her eyes were shut, he couldn't tell if she was living or dead.

His body shuddered as his stomach began to clench, with a hand over his mouth he got to his feet took two steps stumbled, righted himself and just made it in to the bathroom as he began to dry heave.

.

Sam walked back in from visiting the nearby grocery store. "Hey I come bearing yoghurt, and then I have the address of the company that rented out the car your friend Perovic drove." He stopped when he realized the bed was empty and Michael was nowhere in sight. "Mike?" He called out.

"I'm here." Michael's voice sounded strained. He walked out of the bathroom his toothbrush still in his mouth. "I just got a message." He handed his phone to Sam. Sam looked at the photos and frowned.

"No demands or threats?" He raised an eyebrow, studying the details of the photos looking for clues.

"Not yet." Michael disappeared back into the bathroom. "You said you had the information on the car? We should get moving."

"After you eat. You collapsed last night remember? Today we search, but you. You have to take it easy." Sam started putting the groceries away.

Michael came out of the bathroom, going over to the bed to retrieve Sam's spare gun which he slipped into his waistband. "We should get going." He was already heading for the door.

"Mike! Michael did you hear me? You collapsed from exhaustion last night we're not going anywhere until you eat something." Sam shouted over to him, making sure his words came out as an order not a request.

Michael stopped. "Ok." He agreed.

Collecting the blueberry yoghurt Sam had left out for him he peeled off the lid and quickly spooned it into his mouth as fast as he could.

A team is only as strong as it's weakest link, and at the moment that was him. For Fiona's sake he had to pull himself together and think of the team. It was time for another admission. "Sam, have I got any painkillers left back there?" He asked.

Sam gave his friend a long look, this was a first. Michael asking for pain meds, it was also suspicious. It started Sam wondering exactly how bad his friend was feeling. "Sure buddy I think you've some Tylenol back here." He handed him two pills and a glass of water, he'd just have to keep a careful watch on him.

"We should go." Michael put the glass down a determined look on his face, hiding how much his head hurt, and how his stomach felt like it might turn inside out at any moment.

.

Sam had just got the engine started when his phone rang. Putting the car back in park he answered the call, it was Mary his buddy from traffic.

"Sam what have you been up to?" Michael could hear the screeching voice coming through the phone, wincing Sam moved the phone away from his ear.

"And good morning to you Mary what's up?" He asked, wondering what had upset his normally calm friendly buddy.

"That car you asked me to follow yesterday. The rental office it belonged to was blown up early this morning." She told him exactly what was wrong. "Please tell me you had nothing to do with it?"

"I swear I had nothing to do with it Mary." He paused knowing what he was about to say would make him seem guilty. "But please don't mention my interest in it to anybody else."

The line went silent, he could just make out the sound of her breathing. "I won't volunteer any information. But if I get asked about this I won't lose my job for you."

"And I wouldn't ask you to, thank you Mary." He hung up. "Well it's pointless going to the office, the whole area is going to be flooded with every branch of law enforcement in Miami. I say we try talking to the marina manager and the local coastguard."

Michael put his hand on the steering wheel stopping Sam from continuing out onto the street. "It's going to take too long. We don't know for sure she was on a yacht, and even if she was it might not have been kept there. I'm going to see Larry."

"Don't do it brother. If she blew up that office it's because she knew we were closing in. That photo of Fi, looks like it was taken on a boat of some sort. The marina manager should be able to give us the names of the yachts that left last night. I tell you going to Larry is the last thing you should be doing." Sam grabbed hold of Michael's arm trying to stop him leaving the car.

"He might have something we can use." Michael replied. "I need... I want her back Sam. You don't know what Sasha is like. What she's capable of," He broke off, reaching for the door handle. The old feeling of wanting to run was back stronger than ever.

"Jesus Mike will you listen to yourself. Do you think Fiona would want you to hand yourself over to Larry just on the off chance he is actually willing to help?"

"It doesn't matter what she wants." Came the reply.

"Two hours Mikey. Time to talk to the guys at the marina and then over to the coastguard I swear we'll know more by then and you won't have had to sell your soul."

Michael pulled away from Sam's hand and opened the car door. He wanted to believe Sam he really did, but he knew what Sasha was capable of and he couldn't get Fiona's image in the photos he had been sent out of his head.

He tried to clear his head but nothing would come to him, it was as if his brain was stuck. "You check out your leads and I'll go see what Larry has to say." He stepped out of the car and started walking towards the charger, digging into his pockets for the spare key he had taken from the loft.

"I'm trying to be understanding here, I really am but this is bullshit and you know it. If Larry knows anything useful it's because he's involved." Sam chased after him.

"Larry knows how she thinks, we. Ok, I need his input." Michael had the charger door unlocked.

Sam grabbed hold of the door, stopping Michael from opening it. "Mike, I want Fiona back, I really do. But I can't work with Larry."

"It's for Fiona, and to get her back I'll work with the devil himself, and if you really want her back you would too."


	7. Chapter 7

**Out of the ashes.**

**Thank you Amanda Hawthorn for unsticking my brain.  
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**.**

Chapter seven,

.

Fiona remained completely passive as Sasha took her photographs. She stayed that way even when rough hands dragged her to her feet. She staggered and swayed as they supported her on the way back to the room she had escaped from earlier. And dropped gracelessly to the floor when they released her. The only words she uttered came as one of the guards pulled her hands behind her back to fit handcuffs to her wrists.

"Please. They're too tight." She whimpered, her arms moving weakly in protest as the steel snapped shut.

"Loosen them off a bit." The other guard standing in the door way ordered, a look of pity on his face. Without a word the cuffs were loosened a fraction.

"Thank you." She spoke in a whisper, her eyes sliding shut as both men left the room shutting and locking the door behind them.

She lay unmoving for several minutes after they left. Then slowly manoeuvred herself into a sitting position. She was tired and sore but nowhere near as pathetic as she had made out. The first escape attempt had failed miserably, she had underestimated her opponent. Running her tongue over her teeth and along the inside of her cheek, her expression hardened as she thought about what had happened.

Then again Sasha had also made her first mistake. Nobody told Fiona Glenanne to give up and become the damsel in distress to save her lover's feelings. Yes she was worried about Michael, worried that in trying to get her back he would do something so reckless and stupid he ended up behind bars. Sasha sending him photographs just made her all the more determined to escape on her own.

She pulled her legs up as tight to her body as she could manage, and then with a bit of wriggling she brought her hands underneath her body and stepped through the cuffs. The guard had done them up over her wrists, probably due to her moving while he was doing them up. If she could just get them over her joints she would be able to slip them off.

Bracing her back against the wall Fiona brought both her feet up and settled them against the centre of the cuffs. Then while she slowly rotated her wrists back and forth as she straightened her legs. Biting her lip so hard it bled, she eventually sent the restraints across the floor.

Rubbing her sore wrists she got to her feet and walked around the room, they had left the lights on this time, probably thinking she was too beaten down to fight any more. She needed to find something she could use to fight with, the next time she wasn't going to dive off the side into open water. Her eyes fixed on the only piece of furniture in the room. The chair, screwed to the floor, or as she now saw it, a set of very sturdy clubs that just needed liberating.

…...

"I'm on my way over, what room are you in?" Michael was already marching through the entrance of the Epic hotel. Ignoring the reception he headed straight towards the bank of elevators.

"Larry!" He snapped the word out when he didn't get an immediate answer.

_Fiona's tear stained face, one side red from possibly an open handed slap. Also a black eye maybe from a punch. What else had Sasha put her through? _He had been trying to shake the image since wheel spinning away from Sam.

"Tenth floor, suite 1023." Came Larry's smooth reply, breaking into his thoughts.

"I'll be with you in a minute." Shutting his phone Michael, reached the elevator as the doors slid open. A young couple who must have travelled up from the basement parking took one look at the ferocious expression on the newcomer's face and immediately disembarked. Michael rode up to the tenth floor alone, all the way trying to calm himself down.

_Her limbs had been wrapped in what looked like duct tape, in the first photo, in the second he remembered how raw her right arm appeared. She must have torn it loose trying to escape. Did she think she was alone, that they wouldn't come for her? Was she still alive? It was hard to make out from that second photograph._

He rested his forehead against the cold metal of the elevator wall feeling the slight vibration of the motors against his skin. As hard as it was, he needed to block all these thoughts from his mind.

Larry had information he needed, going in there making threats and losing his temper would get him nowhere. He had already slipped up, letting his old mentor know how desperate he was to get Fiona back. If he was going to come out of the meeting with any of his self respect intact he had to bury all his anger and frustration and act like a professional.

Stepping out of the elevator he looked up and down the bright airy corridor, satisfied it was safe he followed the room numbers until he came to 1023. Running his hands through his hair he took a deep breath in and held it for a moment before letting it out slowly. He was as ready as he could be, lifting his hand he rapped on the door.

Larry's voice called out almost immediately. "Door's open Michael. Come in, just make sure you keep your hands in sight."

He found Larry sat in what looked like a very comfy armchair, his legs stretched out resting on a foot stool, and a hand gun cocked and ready to fire in his left hand.

"Shut the door kid, then drop your gun and kick it over to me." Larry wore a wide confident smile. His whole demeanour telling Michael, I know every move you're thinking about making, and I've got it covered.

Michael carefully removed his gun from the back of his waistband and placed it on the floor, kicking it across the room so it ended up at the side of Larry's chair. Straightening up he returned Larry's grin with one of his own.

"Take a seat and let's have a little chat." Larry gestured with the barrel of his gun to the chair facing his own.

Michael sat down in what turned out to be a very comfortable armchair. "You said you'd help me get Fiona back?" The words came out before he could stop them.

A long forgotten memory flashed into his head. _General_ _Perovic had been infamous for crippling prisoners who tried to escape. Had Fiona's attempt already cost her a broken body. _He screwed up his eyes, trying to block out the image._ Not now. He could not think about that now. _

"So, I take it Sam's not managed to get anything more on your old girlfriend." Larry's jibe caused him to open his eyes and send the older man a vicious glare.

"Sasha was never my girlfriend. It was one night, because you said she had the intel we needed. It was you who gave me the job of keeping her busy in that hotel room. While you broke into her apartment and stole the intelligence from her safe."

Larry chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever you say kid, whatever you say. So why do you need good old Lar's help now? That washed up old booze hound Axe not up to the job any more?"

"He's working on some leads, I just wondered what information you had managed to get." Michael answered smoothly, he was becoming impatient his own crocodile smile beginning to slip. He gritted his teeth, he would not think about Fiona.

"You should have taken up my offer last night, I knew exactly where she was then. But give me a few hours and I can probably find her again. However you've forgotten what I said. I only help friends, and we have a few trust issues to work through before you get any help off me."

"And how do you see us working through those issues?" Michael forced himself to relax back into the chair. This was the beginning of negotiations, Larry would help him but it was going to cost.

"You've cost me a lot of money Michael, and a valuable asset. I had to contract out that last assignment because of your tantrum." Larry pointed out.

"Sorry." He apologized doing his best to sound sincere. "How can I make up for my short comings"

"You can make it up to me by doing a little chore. There is a disk in a safe deposit box. I want it."

"A safe deposit box? In a bank? Fiona can't wait while I break into a bank for you." Michael snapped, his fingers curling around the arms of the chair like talons.

"Calm down. You don't have to break into the bank. You just have to walk in and use this key." He held up the key in question.

"You have a key?" He didn't have to be at the top of his game to work out there was more to the job than just walking inside and collecting a disk from a bank. "I take it you're not the only one who wants this disk?"

"There is a FBI surveillance team watching the bank and they have set up cameras inside." Larry held up a hand stopping another angry outburst. "But I can arrange to have the surveillance detail pulled and the cameras disabled for a short period of time."

This last bit of news sent his anxiety levels up another notch, he imagined Sam's voice in his ear telling him to get out now. Instead he asked. "What's on the disk?"

Larry's eyes narrowed. "None of your business kid. This is my offer, you do this easy low risk job for me and I'll help you find Fiona. Otherwise you can go and look for her your own and hope Sasha decides to kill her quickly." He crossed his arms over his chest, and waited.

Sam was going to go ballistic when he found out. Fiona would probably kill him, slowly and painfully but at least she would be alive to do it. "Ok. I'll do it." He agreed.

"Great." Larry beamed. He got awkwardly to his feet. "You'll love it. A nice easy job and while you're doing it I'll get on to some people I know who'll find Sasha. You can be snuggled up with your little gunrunner by tomorrow night. How does that sound?" He had made his way over to the mini bar and poured Michael a small tumbler of whiskey. "The baby bird has found his way back home." He raised his glass and gulped the alcohol down in one go.

Michael held the glass, his eyes downcast staring into the amber liquid. An easy job and then he would be back in Larry's good graces. With a promise of Fiona back in his arms by tomorrow night. Then as soon as she found out what he had done she would be gone again.

"Hey kid, listen to me when I'm talking!" Larry's words cut through his thoughts. "I only have a small window of opportunity here. In two hours time, all the security will disappear for fifteen minutes. You need to go and get changed into something decent and get over to this address." He handed Michael a piece of paper. "I'll meet you there hand you the key and an identity card and then you can hand me the disk."

Michael put the drink down without having tasted a drop. "Can I have my gun back now we're friends again?" He asked, getting to his feet eager to be on his way.

Larry kicked the weapon back across the room. "Oh one more thing Michael. Remember my rules. Keep this to yourself, and I do mean it this time. Sam Axe doesn't need to know my business. You talk to him about this job and you can forget about any help from me."

With a nod Michael left the room and hurried down the corridor, he had his phone back in his hand his finger pressing down on Sam's number on the speed dial.

"So did you get out with your soul intact?" Came Sam's less than happy greeting.

"I know you're unhappy, but he has offered up some good information." Michael tried to placate his friend.

"Really and what will you have to do to get that information?" Sam asked.

"I don't want to talk about it." Michael spoke quickly, he was in the hotel lobby now heading out to where he had left his car.

"Ok Mikey." Sam dropped the subject, he would bring it up later when they were face to face and he could push for information. "Do you want to hear about my day?"

"Sure, what have you found out?" He could see the Charger up ahead.

"According to the marina manager a yacht left very late last night, the name of the occupants was Mizin, Miss Lena Mizin a Bulgarian national with a crew of six. The manager noticed her, I got the impression he was quite smitten. He described her as a tall, slim, blond with light blue grey eyes. Does that sound right?" He was quite pleased with himself, they were closing in.

Michael sighed. "Yeah that's good but where's she gone? And was Fi on the yacht?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, screwing his eyes tightly shut. He was going to need more pain killers soon.

"Give me time Mikey. Whatever Larry wants you to do, leave it for now. We're getting closer, are you going to join me to talk to the Coastguard?"

"Er, I'm just going back to Fi's to get changed." Michael replied. "Give me a couple of hours and I'll catch up with you."

Sam had heard the hesitation and he guessed at the cause. "Mike I mean it, don't do it. Larry is a bad influence on you." He warned again.

"It's ok Sam I've just got to go pick something up, I'll catch up with you soon." He was inside the charger with the engine running. Ending the call he threw the phone on to the passenger seat and pulled out in to traffic. A quick glance at his watch told him by the time he got to Fi's and changed his clothes he wouldn't have long to get into position before the FBI teams were pulled from the bank.

.

Michael entered the apartment, and came to an abrupt halt, it was almost like she was there with him. There was a subtle hint of her perfume in the air, underneath the wall mirror on a small wooden table he spotted her hair brush, a couple of scrunchies and a pile of the hair clips that made such excellent improvised lock picks.

Moving into the lounge there was a coffee cup still on the table a line of her lipstick around the edge. For a moment his eyes fixated on the red smear. Before he torn himself away, mooning about like a lovesick kid was not going to get her back.

"Focus." He muttered the word under his breath, shaking his head at his inability to stay on task.

Steeling himself, he entered the bedroom and went straight through to the shower. He didn't have any time to waste. He hadn't had a chance to clean up since before gardening at his mothers, he needed to clean up and get into some fresh clothes if he was going to walk into a busy bank without being noticed.

Fifteen minutes later apart from still having wet hair he was nearly ready to go. Checking his watch again he was pleased to see he still had time. Pulling open Fiona's closet he took out a couple of hold alls. In one he placed a full change of clothes, jeans, a soft silky blouse that he knew was one of her favourites, underwear socks and a pair of boots. She was going to need clothes when he got her back.

Next he took the other bag and went over to the bed pushing it over to the side of the room kneeling down where the bed had been, he brought out a small folding knife. Carefully easing up several loose tiles, he stacked them up and then removed a steel lid off Fiona's emergency supplies.

Over the last two weeks he'd had a lot of free time on his hands, some of it on his own and he had done quite a lot of exploring around Fiona's new home. After all he needed to keep his skills sharp, finding her weapons stash wasn't prying, it was training.

He retrieved two small cubes of C4 all ready to use, with detonators attached. The Makarov he had bought her as a present a couple of years ago and several clips of ammunition. Dropping the weapons into the second hold all he got ready to leave. With a final look at his watch he headed for the door he wanted to be at the bank early enough to scout it out himself.

As he reached the door he came to a stop, turning back he went into the bathroom and pulled all the towels out of the washing basket. Smiling he reached in and came out holding Fiona's H and K compact with a silver slide. Checking it was loaded with a full clip he ran out, letting the front door slam shut.

He dropped everything into the trunk of the charger, he wasn't going to walk into a bank armed. It was a recipe to get shot if it was noticed. As he drove towards the financial district it struck him he actually felt calm, relaxed and ready to engage in a little work.

…...

It was mid-day, time for a little lunchtime snack and an alcoholic beverage. Sam had spotted a busy little cafe near the entrance to the private jetty. He thought while he ate his cuban sandwich and sipped on his minty mojito he might pick up on some local gossip. With a bit of luck something about a group of East European types up to no good.

Sitting outside Sam was also holding on to the hope that Michael would see some sense and join him for some lunch and then a talk with some old Navy buddies at the coastguard office. His phone vibrating it's way across the table caught his eye. Picking it up he was disappointed to see an unknown number on the screen instead of Mike's ID.

"Yello?" He answered leaning back in his chair.

"Hey Sammy!" Sam pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it. Did Barry just call him 'Sammy'?

"Barry?" He replied, carefully.

"Yeah, I've got some information for you on that Russian lady."

"Ok, so what have you got for me?" Did their favourite money launderer sound a little nervous?

"Well that's the thing, can you meet me at Michael's apartment in an hour?"

Sam smiled, so they were coming after him now. "Sure thing Barry not a problem, at Michael's place. In one hour. You take care now." He just hoped Barry had done enough to save himself.

Having left enough money to cover his half eaten lunch Sam made his way back to where he had left his car. As he walked he tried to get hold of Michael, but the call just went to voice mail. "Damn it Mikey you promised to wait."

Arriving at the parking lot, he was just unlocking the car door when he heard a suspicious click, and a man dressed in shorts and a loose fitting shirt with a baseball cap obscuring his features stepped towards him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Out of the ashes**

**.**

Chapter eight,

**THUD...**

"Aaarghh." Fiona hissed, standing on her left leg she clutched her right foot in her hands, vigorously rubbing at her heel. A stream of expletives coming out of her mouth.

Tentatively placing her foot back on the ground, keeping her weight on her toes. She stared at the bane of her existence, the most hated article of furniture she had ever laid eyes on. The chair that refused to break.

Pulling her damp matted hair away from her face she steadied herself for another attack. She knew if she didn't succeed soon she was going to have to give up. A weapon would be nice, but not if she was too weak to wield it, and she was getting weaker.

Eyes firmly fixed on the back rest, she turned sideways. Raising her right knee up high and close to her body she balanced on her left leg, knee slightly bent. One last go she thought. Taking a deep breath she dropped slightly on her left leg and straightened the right in a fast thrust kick, toes flexed back she smashed her heel into the backrest of the chair.

**CRASH...**

Snatching her foot back, a grin spread across her face. Carefully placing her foot down onto the floor she surveyed the broken chair.

"Finally." She muttered.

It took her a couple of minutes to dismantle the arm rests and sort through all the broken parts to find pieces suitable for weapons. Long enough, and thick enough to do some damage to anybody who got in her way.

Feeling a bit better now she settled down to rest. She'd had no food or drink since the lunch at Madeline's. Her head was pounding and fatigue was pulling her down. As she rested she came aware the engines were slowing. They were docking.

…..

Barry's phone call had set Sam on high alert. Barry had never called him 'Sammy'. That had been clue number one, the second being the mention of a 'Russian lady'. When he had last spoken to the spiky haired money launderer he hadn't known about Sasha. Lastly he suggested meeting at the loft. Michael didn't like his contacts coming to his home, and Barry had always preferred to take his meetings somewhere with an expensive menu.

Unfortunately Sam hadn't expected was the attack to come so soon. The man looked like any average tourist, baggy khaki shorts, topped with a loose fitting blue cotton shirt. A baseball cap with the peak pulled low kept the man's face partially obscured. What gave him away was the semi automatic hand gun with a silencer fixed to the barrel.

Sam took a quick look around, the parking lot was quiet, nobody else close by. So no chance of a scared witness calling the police. Why hadn't he found a more public, busy part of the marina to park his car.

The gun started to come up in a swift smooth motion. Sam looked over the man's shoulder. "Hey!" He shouted, hoping the distraction would work in his favour. It didn't, the man he faced was a professional and the gun was now pointing straight at him.

Realizing he had very little room for manoeuvre standing inbetween two cars, with his own gun tucked into the back of his waist band hidden under his beige and white shirt. He had no choice but to take a chance. Stepping forward in a move almost as swift as Michael might perform, Sam brought his leg up in a kick aimed at knocking the gun out of his opponents hand. The toe of his canvas deck shoe connected with the gunman's wrist sending the gun upwards, the gun making a soft putting noise as a shot was fired.

Determined to keep the advantage Sam moved in his hand folding into a fist. If he could capture this man they would have a prisoner to interrogate. That thought was still in Sam's head when pain shot through his body and he fell forward as if he'd been boned. A second attacker smiled at the first, holding up a taser, the wires still in Sam's back.

"Quickly, get him inside." The second man spoke kneeling down to disconnect the electric prongs from his victims back, before pulling a handful of cable ties out of his pocket.

...

Sam came round lying on the back seat of his car, his mouth covered by tape, and a bag over his head. When he attempted to move he worked out he was also bound at the wrists and ankles. In the short, he was in a lot of trouble.

Having no idea how long he had been out for, the only thing he knew was they weren't on a made up road. The car was bouncing about and occasionally he winced as he not only felt, but heard the underside of the car scrape along the ground.

Finally the car came to a stop and the door opened. He felt hands wrap round his ankles and he was pulled roughly out of the car and on the ground. He blinked as the hood was pulled from his head, but had no time to react as the handle of a gun caught him a glancing blow knocking him unconscious.

He didn't feel the tape being ripped away from his mouth, or one of the men taking photos with a camera phone. He was still out of it when they dragged him up and positioned him in the driving seat of his car and moved the seat forward so he was trapped against the steering wheel.

He began to groan when his mouth was held open and he gagged as they poured whiskey down his throat. He tried to struggle but while one kept him still the other continued to pour the alcohol into him. What didn't go down his throat, went over his clothes, after the second bottle they let him go and slammed the car door shutting him inside.

Barely conscious, and sick to his stomach Sam sat helplessly as the car was pushed the few feet to the edge of the river. As the car went over the edge into the fast moving water and started to sink one of the men held up his phone taking some more shots of the sinking vehicle.

…..

"Thank you Barry you have been very helpful. My sister is very grateful for your assistance in this matter, and as agreed we have transferred ten thousand dollars to your off shore account."

The speaker was a tall slender man with very short clipped blond hair, he stared at the broken bloody figure lying on the abandoned warehouse floor. He was using a rag to clean Barry's blood off his hands.

Barry lay curled up in a ball trying to stay awake, scared if he let himself fall asleep he would never wake up again. He had never been a fighter, and he had never felt such pain as he was in now. He wasn't even sure he was grateful that this psycho said he going to let him live.

"Just so you fully understand your situation, let me explain." The man dropped the bloody rag onto the floor next to Barry's face. "You just sent Sam Axe to his grave. If you tell anybody about our little talk, I'll make sure Michael Westen knows who sold out his best friend for ten thousand dollars."

The man laughed and gave his fallen victim a nudge with the toe of his boot. The groan he got from Barry widened the smile to his face. "I don't think Westen will be bothered about how all your powerful clients might take your death. What do you think?"

When he got no answer he delivered one more kick before gesturing to his associates who had stood by and watched. "Time to go. I think Barry understands his situation. Take my advice little man and leave Miami for a while."

Barry lay there quietly sobbing even after he heard his tormentors cars driving off. _Had he really got_ _Sam Axe killed? Surely he had done enough to warn him it was a trap._ A whimpering moan escaped his lips as he tried to move, they hadn't spared an inch of his body in the beating they had given him. _Sam was a professional, he was used to dealing with danger every day of his life. He would have picked up on his warning._ Barry closed his eyes, he would rest a bit longer. _Sam must have picked_ _up on his warning._

…..

Finally feeling like he was getting somewhere, with something to focus on other than what Sasha was possibly doing Fiona, Michael found his thoughts fixing on what was on the disk that Larry wanted him to retrieve.

As he reached the financial district he circled the block which housed the bank he was going to enter. It didn't take much to spot the FBI surveillance team. Workmen hovering around a tarpaulin shelter surrounded by cones and plastic barriers. Maybe someone should tell them they should at least look like they're working.

Finding a parking spot from where he could watch the watchers. Michael noticed a second team or rather single agent. A hot dog concession stand covering the other entrance to the bank. Whatever was on the disk was obviously important. He wondered why the feds hadn't just got a warrant to seize the box.

Slowly he started to put it all together, a frown forming as he realized how badly he was performing. No wonder Sam had wanted to keep him away from any jobs. He was definitely a liability.

It had something to do with Ross Dawson's financial records. The ones he had been sent to steal on the night he shot Larry. The night Larry had tried to set him up to kill Dawson and steal the records which were meant to be kept in his safe at his home.

He remembered seeing a news report stating Dawson and his wife had been poisoned yesterday lunchtime. That had to be the job Larry spoke about contracting out.

After Dawson's death the feds must have torn the house to pieces searching for the records, and had somehow found out Dawson had moved them out of the house for safe keeping. They must be staking out the bank hoping to catch the killer trying to claim the disks. Larry was setting him up to take the blame for the murder and the stealing of the disks.

.

Before he could get further in his thoughts the passenger door was pulled open and Larry carefully lowered himself into the seat.

"Hey kid just like old times. You ready for this?" He gave Michael a large happy grin. "Just like the embassy job in Kabul. Remember how much fun that was?"

"Sure Larry lots of fun." Michael replied sarcasm dripping in his tone. "Only four or five people died getting us inside from what I remember." He sincerely hoped this was nothing like the Kabul job. Relying on amateurs to give cover while you sneak into a secure building had been a mistake in '94 and it would be a worse mistake now.

"Rather them than us kid, and this time nobody has to die." He checked his watch and then handed over the key and a card that identified him as Charles Devon. "As long as you don't take too long of course."

After a quick look at the key and ID card Michael slid both items into his jacket pocket. Larry gave his watch one more look and then tapped Michael on the arm. "Time to go. Fifteen minutes."

Michael was out and on his way without uttering another word, as he crossed the street he noticed all the 'work men' had disappeared from sight and the concession stand was busy with people. He strode confidently into the bank. Larry wanted the disk so this part of the job was probably the safest.

.

Back in the car Larry kept watch that his carefully organized plan continued to go without a hitch. He scowled at his phone when it began to ring. Answering it, he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the doors to the bank.

"Axe has been taken care off." Sasha's spoke as soon as he picked up. "I have the photos."

"Good job." He crowed, the only thing that would have been better was if he could have done the deed himself. "Send the photos in another hour." He ordered.

"He doesn't suspect?" She asked, he thought he detected a bit of concern in her tone.

"No, and he won't as long as you do what you're told. Have you got the parts?"

"Stefan is getting them now, he has finished with that weasel Burkowski."

"I don't like you involving your brother Sasha." Larry spoke flatly. In his opinion the more people involved the more chances of something going wrong. Also Sasha and Stefan's motives were different to his own. He was beginning to think that there could be a parting of the ways coming soon.

"It was Stefan who discovered the little weasel prying into our business. You should be grateful to him." She snapped back.

"Of course." He answered smoothly, doing his best to sound sincere. Meanwhile he was beginning to plot her demise. She was a nice girl but with her family becoming involved he was no longer sure of her loyalties.

He spotted Michael was on his way back, walking fast. "I have to go." He ended the call, there would time to decide what to do about Sasha later. After she had served her purpose.

.

Sliding back into the driver's seat Michael started the engine. "I'm guessing we shouldn't stay around?" He asked, all business, the 'workmen' were back on the street.

"You can take me back to the Epic." Larry ordered. Michael nodded and drove the short distance back to Larry's hotel.

As soon as Michael stopped the car, Larry held out a hand. "The disk."

Michael switched the engine off and lent his head back against the head rest. "This disk, it's the one Management paid you to get isn't it?" His voice was flat, emotionless.

"Management?" Larry queried.

"The man whose face you photo shopped into the picture at the Dawson's." He turned to face his old partner. "I know you've been working a job for the people who burnt me." He accused.

"What can I say kid. The old man pays well. Now the disk. Please." He had his gun out, shoved into Michael's side.

"The deal first, what have you found out about Fiona?" He held Larry's gaze.

"I could just shoot you and take the disk." Larry pointed out.

"You could, but you won't." Michael replied evenly.

After a moment Larry gave up the staring competition. "Fine, all my contacts have got at the moment is Sasha is staying on a yacht, called The Sundancer chartered in New York a month ago under the name Mizin." Larry snapped out the information and then dug the barrel of his gun into Michaels ribs a little harder. "Now, no more games. The disk." His voice hardened.

Larry had just given him the same information Sam had got from the marina office. Michael turned away ignoring the gun that was still being held on him. He could feel the frustration building again, his fingers flexed around the steering wheel.

"Not good enough Larry I need more than that." He spoke through clenched teeth.

Larry sat back and sighed, giving the younger man a sideways look. This was going better than he had hoped for. "I might be able to speed things up." He paused, making sure he had Michael's attention. "I've heard rumours that the Columbians are trying to strike up a deal with the General. They might know where his daughter is hiding. But they won't just give up that sort of information."

"So ask them." Michael had his eyes shut. He had done this job for nothing. Sam was right, he should never have listened to Larry.

"Like I said kid they won't just give up information on a man they want to make a deal with. You'll have to do something for them." Larry explained patiently.

"Get out!" Michael snarled throwing the computer disk into Larry's lap, he needed to think, and if he stayed here he was going to kill Larry.

"Think about it Michael. Go talk to Sam Axe find out what he's got for you. But I'm telling you now you'll only get Fiona back by making friends and that involves playing nice. Sasha Perovic is too well connected for you to just grab off the street." He slid out of the car slamming the door shut.

As soon as the door closed Michael drove off at speed, cutting up other cars on the street he ignored the honking of horns as he sped towards the marina. He had been a complete idiot thinking Larry would help him.

A vision of Fiona slipped into his mind and he sent away immediately, he had been letting his emotions get the better of him. He had gone soft, it was one thing Larry had been right about all along.

To keep himself occupied as he drove, he dialled Sam's number. It went straight to voice mail. "Damn it Sam." He couldn't believe Sam was avoiding his calls. Yes he had been an idiot but he had a reason this time.

Parking up as close to the marina as he could get, he left the charger and started his search of the area, all the time ringing Sam's number. After twenty minutes he knew he was wasting his time. Nobody in the coastguards office had seen Sam and he still wasn't answering his phone. Michael knew he was going to have to accept there was no way he was going to find him amongst the crowds unless he was very lucky.

A feeling of nausea overwhelmed him, causing him to stagger and fall heavily against a wall. At that point he knew it was time to head back to the loft. He couldn't afford a repeat of the previous night, if he hadn't collapsed they might have found Fiona by now.

He drove back to the loft, knowing he needed to eat and drink if he was going to be able to keep going. Hopefully Sam would call him or turn up and he could apologize. He had got carried away, he wanted, no needed Fiona back and Larry had seemed to be the best chance of finding her.

The more he thought about Larry, the more he thought about their recent encounters, those since the old spy's undeath. By the time he pulled into the yard his level of paranoia was rising rapidly. Before heading upstairs he went over the car and came up with a bug under the driver's seat and a tracker wired into the ignition. While he had been talking to Larry in the hotel, Larry must have had somebody break into his car.

Cursing, he headed upstairs he would have to pull his phone apart now just to be sure there wasn't any suspicious reason for Sam not answering his calls.

He was walking up the stairs when his phone signalled an incoming message, he looked at the ID. Sam. Sam was texting him.

His blood ran cold, and he sunk down onto the metal staircase. A photo of Sam lying in the dirt, blood on his face his eyes closed. Then another of him sat in his car, his eyes still closed his body slumped over the steering wheel. The last one, Sam's car disappearing underwater.

He sat staring at the last photo totally cold, his chest tight with a deep pit forming in his stomach. Another message came through he glanced down, reading it.

'You're all alone now.'


	9. Chapter 9

**Out of the ashes:**

**.  
><strong>

**A/N: Thank you again Amanda Hawthorn for your input in this chapter.**

****This chapter contains a scene depicting domestic violence.**

**.  
><strong>

Chapter nine,

.

With his tormentors finally gone, Barry opened his eyes. The little bits and pieces of his surroundings that he could see were framed in a red haze. Remaining curled up in a protective ball with every part of his body screaming out in pain, he didn't feel brave enough to try moving.

Eventually though he realized he was going to have to at least try, he needed help. Whimpering with pain he gingerly pulled his phone from his jacket pocket, squeezing his eyes shut against the agony of having to use broken fingers he pressed one on the speed dial.

Barely a moment passed before the call was answered by a man who immediately started reeling off a list of the days deals. "Ok Vincent wants fifty cents on the dollar for the thing he asked you to look at, Morgan says no he can't do the job for less than what he quoted. And Alicia said to tell you the art you asked her to value is no good, and for you to stay away from..."

Barry couldn't get a word in edgeways as his assistant continued to bring him up to date with all the schemes and scams he had his fingers in.

"Fabian shut up." He croaked.

"Man you sound rough what have you..."

"I said shut up." Barry closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness hit him. "Just listen. Ten thou has just gone into the Cayman Island account. I want to know everything about the account the money came from, and I mean everything. Use the ten grand plus whatever you need from the emergency fund to get answers. Once you've got the ball rolling on that, put the co-ordinates for this phone into the satnav and come get me." He was panting from the effort of speaking.

"What about...?"

"Nothing else Fabian just what I've told you. Be quick." He hung up the call and shut his eyes. _Sam was a professional, he would have caught on to his hints and was hopefully kicking some Russian butt._

…_..._

The two hired killers stood on the bank of the river watching Sam's car slowly sink under the murky fast flowing water. One of them held up his camera phone clicking off photos as the weight of the engine caused the car to tip forward and begin to fill with water. The last photo captured the moment the vehicle finally disappeared from view. From the car entering the water until it sunk out of sight, took barely two minutes.

With nothing more to see, Camera man turned to where he had left their car. As he unlocked the door, eager to be on his way, he noticed his partner in crime was staring intently at the river, with his gun drawn.

"What are you doing?" He called out.

"The guy was a seal, you want to tell that psycho Perovic we did a job and then have the son of a bitch turn up alive." The associate replied, his eyes fixed on where the car disappeared.

Huffing, Camera man dropped his phone into his pocket and drew his own gun. They patrolled the waters edge scanning every broken branch and piece of debris that floated passed.

"It's been at least five minutes." Camera man complained. "He probably drowned from the booze we poured into him."

"Another minute, these Russians don't take failure well, and I like my life" He scanned the banks, Axe had to be dead. "Ok make the call and send her the photos."

Decision made, they got into their car and sped away. A simple job that paid well, eliminate an ageing ex navy SEAL and Federal agent. Make it look like an accident, and take plenty of photos. They had completed the brief to the letter, and were looking forward to a lot more work coming their way.

.

Sucking in a deep shuddering breath as his head broke through to the surface, Sam Axe was only vaguely aware of what was happening. With his brain and body pickled in alcohol and worn out by the effort it had taken to get out of the car, he was staying afloat by instinct alone.

He had no strength left to fight the current that carried him helplessly downstream. His body tumbling and crashing into the rocks and flotsam that littered the river. If he had been capable of thought, he would have thanked the Navy instructors for all the years of gruelling survival training he had endured.

He had no idea how far or for how long he travelled, before the scrapping of his feet and knees on gravel brought him around enough to realize he was close to shore. Drawing on the last of his reserves, desperation sent his limbs flailing out. Pure stubbornness got him half way up a gently sloping bank before his body gave up.

His chest was heaving as his whole body started to convulse, water and whiskey spewed from his mouth. By the time he finished he was done, too exhausted to move an inch. Lying with his feet still in the water and his head in on the grassy bank he slipped in to unconsciousness.

…...

An hour after receiving the photos of Sam's predicament Michael was still sat on the steps to the loft. His head resting against the concrete wall, his eyes half shut. Images of Fiona and Sam were flashing through his mind. His phone lay abandoned on the step next to him, the words from the last text message burned into his conscience.

He fought to suppress his emotions, to take control. Ideas turning into half formed plans of rescue or revenge. But just before he could latch on, and follow it to completion, another idea and plan took its place. Nothing staying long enough to ground him.

He heard his phone ringing from what seemed like a great distance. An annoying incessant noise which eventually cut through all the turmoil. Reluctantly picking up the phone he sucked in a breath and accepted the call.

"Hello." His throat was dry, his voice rough.

"Michael, finally one of you has answered." His eyes closed at the sound of Madeline's loud scratchy voice in his ear.

"Ma, what do you want? I'm.." He didn't need this now, every word set his headache up another notch.

"You've still got my car. I've had to miss my aqua aerobics class this morning and I'm meant to be at a cooking demonstration at the seniors centre tonight." She whined.

Screwing his eyes up, he rubbed a hand over his forehead. Fiona was possibly dead or at least in the hands of a sociopath, and Sam, well that was too raw. _And she was worried about a cooking_ _demonstration!_

"Michael are you listening to me, I need my car." She demanded his attention.

As annoying as she was, she was all he had left. It struck him like a blow to the chest, she could be the next target. The thought chilled him to the bone. Now he had something to keep himself grounded.

"Yeah I heard you. I'll be over soon." He ended the call abruptly, and got to his feet.

Rushing down the stairs he got in the charger, his mother wasn't going to need her car. As he headed onto the causeway he dialled Nates number.

He had his plan. He was going to get his mother to safety, and then he was going to deal with Sasha Perovic the way he should have the first time he laid eyes on her.

...

Madeline was stood by her front window, waiting for Michael to arrive. Something had happened, something serious she was sure of it. She'd had no word from Fiona since she had seen her at lunch the day before, and it was even longer since she had last spoken to Sam. Now neither of them were answering their phones and when she finally got hold of Michael he had sounded awful.

Her brow furrowed when she heard the roar of the charger's engine, and then the black muscle car pulled up onto her driveway. The crease on her forehead deepened as Michael climbed out of the driver's seat and slammed the door. _Where was her car?_

Determined to get answers she had the door open before Michael reached the top step. He looked pale, his cheeks flushed as if he was running a fever. He brushed passed her, barking out orders, before she had a chance to utter a word.

"Go pack a bag. I've spoken to Nate, you're staying with them until I say it's safe for you to come back."

She followed him with her eyes as he went into the kitchen checking the window and door were locked, switching off her coffee machine and turning off the gas.

"I told you to go pack a bag." He looked at her across the kitchen counter, his expression fierce.

She stood, her hands on her hips with a defiant look on her face. Normally it was Sam's job to tell her she had to take a trip. She had grown use to getting some sort of explanation for the sudden need to go on a vacation, before being hustled out the door. "So what's happened? Have you all forgotten how to answer your..."

He crossed the room so fast she barely registered his approach until he gripped her arm forcing her down the hallway towards her bedroom. She attempted to struggle but his fingers just dug deeper into her arm.

"Michael! What are.. Ow!" She yelped.

"I told you to pack a bag. There's no time for twenty questions." He snarled, pushing her through the door in front of him. "Now get packing."

He got a suitcase out of her wardrobe and threw it on to the bed. His eyes on her the whole time daring her to answer him back, or leave the room.

She rubbed her arm where he had grabbed her, while her mind tried to process what was going on. "What's got into you, I'm not.."

She shrank back, as her words set him off again. Forcing her back against the wall, he slammed a hand against the wall on either side of her shoulders, his face inches of her own. "You think I'm playing some sort of game here? You think I do this for fun?" He spat the words out.

"I don't know." She whispered, averting her eyes not wanting to look at him any more. With her heart hammering in her chest and bile rising in her throat his next outburst opened the floodgates and tears ran down her cheeks.

"Well I don't. So pack the damn case or I'll do it for you." He punched the wall next to her head before turning away.

She could see him pacing in the hallway, as with shaking hands she packed clothes for her forced vacation. Her phone was in her pocket, she desperately wanted to speak to either Sam or Fiona to find out what had happened to turn her normally loving son into a carbon copy of his monster of a father.

This was far worse than the episode in the hospital car park, this time she really feared he would hurt her if she didn't do exactly what he said. This time she was all alone.

"You done yet. I've got other things to do." His patience had run out.

"I-I need my.." She stammered, how many years was it since she had last stammered.

"Forget it, whatever it is, you don't need it." He zipped the case up and pulled the handle out.

"My pills, I can't go without my.." He thrust the handle to the case into her hand and snatched up her handbag going over to the little folding table where she kept all her medication he tipped everything into her bag.

"There. Happy now?" He picked up one of her jackets and gripping her arm once more he marched her out of the house and to his car.

She stood next to the passenger door, steeling herself to make one more try to get through to him. "Michael." She spoke softly, hoping a calm tone and a submissive attitude would stop another outburst. "I'll visit your brother if it means that much to you. But first tell me what's going on. I've not heard a word from Fiona and Sam, and you're obviously very upset. Just tell me what's happened." She crept closer to him, wanting to reach out but also a little scared about what he might do if she did.

He turned to face her, his eyes focussing on a point above her head. She could see he was barely holding himself together, his mouth set in a tight line his eyes still fierce but also watery.

"Fi and Sam are both missing." He spoke in a clipped emotionless tone, a soldier giving a report. "An old enemy is in town and I'm scared they might come after you next."

"This person has what, taken Sam and Fiona?" Her voice was small now at the seriousness of the situation.

"Yes." He slammed the trunk shut. "Now get in the car."

Seeing him standing there next to the Charger, flooded Madeline's mind with long buried memories. It was there in the way he stood, in the harsh expression on his face and the curve of his lips. She could have sworn there was even a smell of bourbon invading her nostrils. Shaking her head she tried to remove the image that was forming.

"You shouldn't be alone, I can.."

The anger resurfaced in an instant, reaching her in a couple of strides. He slapped a hand down hard on the roof of the car, before jerking the door open. "I can't watch over you and do what's necessary to end this. You promised if I told you, you would go." He crowded her until she fell back into the seat.

"Alright, I'll go, I'll go." She was shaking again, not wanting to leave but knowing he wouldn't let her stay. She flinched as he shut the door on her and went round the other side to get in the driver's seat.

The car left her driveway in a cloud of black smoke as he floored the accelerator. Wheel spinning off the drive and then fishtailing down the street. Madeline hung on to the door handle as he drove towards the airport.

"I've booked you into a motel next to the airport. Your flight is at eleven tomorrow morning. Stay out of sight and when you get up in the morning go straight to the airport. The airport security is your friend, you'll be safe there." He told her as they set off, his accent was slipping back to that of his youth. The accent he had worked to iron out, to leave no clue to his origins.

She nodded, too scared to speak. Instead she reached into her purse for her cigarettes, as she fumbled to get a cigarette out and lit she felt her own anger building. Anger at the way she couldn't stop her hands trembling, anger at Michael for making her relive a part of her life she thought she had left behind. And finally anger at his friends for not telling her how bad his mood swings had become. They should have told her, warned her giving her a chance to prepare.

They rode most of the way in silence. She noticed how he doubled back several times, sometimes indicating left and then turning right, using every trick in the book to ensure he wasn't being followed.

"I've no ashtray, open the window." He growled as the car began to fill with smoke.

"S- sorry Fr-" She stopped, biting her tongue as he looked across at her. "Sorry Michael." She softly corrected herself. She saw the look of horror pass over his face at her slip.

It was only when he stopped the car outside of one of the many motels that surrounded the airport that he spoke to her again. He looked distraught, as realization sank in.

"I'm sorry if I scared you." He turned towards her. "There's just so much going on at the moment... and I can't seem to.." He stopped, unable to tell her how scared he was of losing her.

Madeline got out another cigarette, pleased that she could light it with a steady hand. "I know honey." She told him, keeping her eyes down, unable to look him in the face. "You just go find your friends."

He pulled her case from the trunk, wheeling it on to the pavement next to her. "I have to get back." he went to hug her but stopped when she stiffened and took a step away from him.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled another apology before getting back into the car, driving off without another word.

Madeline watched him go, wiping a hand across her face she took one more long draw on her cigarette before stubbing it out and going up the steps to book in to the motel for the night.

…...

Fiona sat on what was left of the chair, her arms behind her back. Her hands each gripping a thick piece of wood. With her head bowed, and her hair hiding her features. She looked the picture of a beaten and broken prisoner. The door to her cell swung open, she slowly raised her head, a toothy smile lit up her face as she launched herself across the room.


	10. Chapter 10

**Out of the ashes**

**.  
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Chapter ten,

When the door swung open Fiona maintained her appearance of a thoroughly demoralized prisoner. Peering through the thick tangle of hair which kept her face hidden from view, she studied the man who stood in the doorway.

She noticed the way he watched her, and it took all of her self control to stay put, as his eyes roamed over her near naked body. He licked his lips before tearing his eyes away from her for long enough to take a quick look up and down the corridor.

He was definitely up to no good. Fiona had a distinct feeling that if she had still been in handcuffs she would have been in a lot of trouble about now. As much as it made her skin crawl, she kept up her act and waited for him to come a little bit closer.

He stepped inside room and started towards her. "Hey." He whispered his voice husky with lust, a hand reached out to touch her shoulder.

She brought her head up slowly revealing a wide toothy smile. "Hey." She replied and launched herself straight at him. A thick piece of wood which had once been part of the chairs back rest caught the man on the side of his head.

He staggered backwards stunned but still upright. Before he could call out for help Fiona drove her makeshift weapon into his abdomen. Causing him to fall to the floor gasping for air, with him down on his knees she finished him off with another blow to the head.

Standing over his body Fiona took a couple of deep breaths to steady her nerves. She knew this would be her last chance to escape. If they caught her a second time they would definitely kill her and send the photos to Michael.

With the thought that re-enforcements could appear at any moment, she dropped down beside her would be attacker. Patting him down she liberated a SIG P220 from the waist band of his pants. Checking the gun was loaded she came to the conclusion Sasha must be hiring amateurs. _What sort of guard goes into a prisoner carrying a gun. _Fiona shook her head in disgust. _He was asking to lose it really. _

Feeling happier now she had a gun in her hand, she turned her attention to her appearance. It took her a couple of minutes to get the man's shirt off, and with the cuffs turned back to keep her hands free and with all the buttons done up she felt ready to take on the rest of the crew.

Before leaving the room that had been her prison, she had one more thing to do. Pulling the man's belt free from his waistband she tied his hands behind his back. Thinking about what had been on his mind when he entered the room she made sure the bindings were as tight and as uncomfortable as possible.

To finish the job of securing her prisoner, she grabbed up all the pieces of duct tape that lay around the room and stuffed them in his mouth to muffle any calls for help. Satisfied she had done all she could, she left the room locking the door, and switching off the lights. If she could stay out of sight, hopefully she could be on her way back to her friends before her captors knew she was gone.

Creeping along the corridor with her new gun at the ready she peered into the various rooms she passed by, the whole place seemed to be deserted. Cautiously she made her way upstairs getting her first real breath of fresh air since the previous night. All the crew appeared to be gone, which explained why the pervert had thought it was safe to assault her.

About to look over the side to get her bearings the sound of male voices approaching her position caused her to crouch down. The quick glance she had managed to get was enough to inform her the yacht was tied up at a mooring next to a large two storey villa, surrounded by manicured lawns and immaculately pruned shrubbery.

She could hear the crunch of footsteps on gravel, to go along with the sound of two men speaking in Russian. She was going to have to find a way to distract them. Waiting until they had their backs to her, she threw her makeshift weapons into the water, causing a loud splash.

As they move away from her position to investigate, she jumped over the side and ignoring the loose gravel which dug into her bare feet took off running. The guards weren't fooled for long, hearing the scrunch of gravel they turned giving chase.

"Hey! Stop!" Her heart began to race they had seen her, a volley of shots confirmed it.

As soon as bullets started coming her way she dived into the bushes that lined the path. Even with the breath knocked out of her body she continued to move, scrabbling along the leaf littered ground as more bullets whizzed by her head.

Keeping as flat as she could, she moved from cover to cover trying to stay hidden. More men came rushing over to join the search. Refraining from opening fire because it would draw attention to her position, Fiona kept moving.

She soon found herself looking out on to the front of the villa, and for the first time she stopped retreating. Sasha was stood in the middle of the courtyard, right out in the open.

It was too good an opportunity to miss. Laying prone on the ground supporting her weight on her elbows and holding the handgun out in front of her. It wouldn't be an easy shot, it was further than she would normally attempt with a hand gun and there was a slight breeze. Regardless of the difficulty she steadied her breathing, finger caressing the trigger. Just as she was about to fire.

Sasha moved forward out of the line of fire. Cursing under her breath, Fiona risked changing her position not willing to give up yet. The two men who had been on guard outside the yacht were dragging the man she had overpowered towards Sasha.

Fiona listened to the rapid exchange of words. Even though she could barely hear anything being said, it wasn't really necessary. It was obvious he was pleading for his life, and it was obvious Sasha wasn't interested in his pleas. One shot and he dropped to the ground as if boned.

The shot brought Fiona back to her senses, she was out manned and out gunned, killing Sasha wouldn't get her out of her predicament. Having seen enough, Fiona retreated, and went looking for the garage, or at least some way off the property.

She didn't find a garage, or any unlocked parked cars, but when she reached the back of the villa she spotted a large van. A sign on the side proclaimed it belonged to A1 Elite Cleaning Services. Seeing nobody around, Fiona made a dash to the side and round to the back door. A quick try of the handle and she climbed inside.

The interior was full of floor cleaners, buckets, mops and boxes full of cleaning supplies. Making her way through all the equipment she found a hiding place under a pile of dust sheets and made herself as small as possible.

"We're not finished yet." She could hear the sound of at least four or five people approaching.

"You, finished for now. You come back tomorrow." The second man had a heavy Russian accent. They were outside the van now, the back doors opened and more equipment was loaded inside.

"You're not our only clients, I have another two houses to do tomorrow."

"You come here tomorrow finish the job." The man ordered.

Fiona felt the van rock as people entered the cab and then the engine started and they were off. She was just starting to breathe easier when they stopped again.

"Open up." She cocked the SIG, if they found her now she stood little chance of escape.

The doors opened, she held her breath as a man climbed inside, briefly rummaging through the the boxes and moving some of the larger equipment. Luckily he didn't check out the whole of the interior. As soon as he got out there was a creak as the gates opened and they were on their way again. Fiona relaxed back and tried to rest, for now at least she was in the clear.

Fiona stayed hidden in the back until the van came to a stop and the people in the cab got out. After waiting a couple of minutes she opened the doors and slid out, hurrying away. She was on an industrial estate, beside a small warehouse.

She knew she had to get away quickly, it wouldn't take long before Sasha realized she must have sneaked out with the cleaning crew. Once that happened she would send men down to check out the area.

An old red pick up truck caught her eye. Being an older vehicle it's security would be easy to get round, and it looked big enough to go through the industrial estate security barrier. Trying the doors she discovered it was locked, unfazed, she brought up the SIG holding it by the barrel and used the handle to smash the window.

She drove out of the gate at speed, smashing through the barrier and ignoring all orders to stop. With no idea where she was, Fiona made the decision to try to head south until she recognized a sign or a landmark.

Eventually she saw a sign for the Sawgrass Mill Mall, following the directions, she ended up in a large car park. Leaving the pick up, she weaved in and out of the other cars looking for something inconspicuous and easy to steal.

Sasha would go to the cleaning company warehouse, and then possibly find out about the stolen pick up. Even if they had friends in the police, which of course was possible, a swap to another vehicle should allow her a little breathing space.

She decided to head for one of the emergency spots that Sam had set up. There would be water there, and at least a few power bars. More importantly there would be a phone and she would be able to find out where the others were hiding out. She just hoped she had got away in time to stop Michael completing whatever job it was Sasha was blackmailing him into doing.

…...

Since leaving Madeline at the motel next to the airport, Michael had been doing his best to push down all his emotions. He had taken out all his anxiety on his mother, scaring her half to death in the process. He wasn't sure if she would ever fully trust him again after what he had put her through.

Burying the guilt he was feeling as deep down as he could, he attempted to concentrate on his plan to rid of Sasha once and for all. Arriving back at the loft, he collected the holdall containing the weapons from the trunk of the charger and laid them out for cleaning on his work top.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose trying to fend off the tiredness that was threatening to ruin everything. He placed his phone on the work top and dialled Larry's number. While he waited for an answer he got a yoghurt from the fridge.

"Michael." Larry's smooth tones came through the loudspeaker. "What can I do for you?"

"I've been thinking about what you said, and you're right. Can you set up a meeting for me?" He spooned yoghurt into his mouth.

"Sure thing kid. What changed your mind about making a deal?" Larry's cheerful voice grated on his nerves.

"Just get me a meeting tonight." He couldn't help but sound tired, he was as good as dead on his feet.

"I'll see what I can do, you should get some rest. Tell Sam I said hi." Michael winced at Larry's parting comment.

With the call made, and the yoghurt forced down Michael checked all the doors were locked, and placed his SIG under his pillow he prepared to get some rest. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he removed his shoes and lay down on top of the covers.

He dreamt of Fiona, of screaming at her in anger, of beating her because a meal was late. Of dragging their children out of their beds to deliver punishment for perceived crimes. He was nothing like Simon or Larry he was sure of it now. A new monster was haunting his dreams. He was just like his dear old dad. Even his own mother thought so.

…...

Sam opened his eyes, as a bout of coughing caused his chest to ache. He was shivering with the cold, and there was a horrible crackling noise coming from his lungs. Confusion clouded his brain, he had absolutely no idea where he was or what had happened.

Lifting his head he looked around through bleary eyes. He was lying on a shallow bank, behind him a fast moving river ahead of him the bank rose sharply for about five feet and seemed to be topped off by trees. Over the noise of the river he thought he heard voices and tried to shout out. The words came out as a dry rasping groan.

Realizing he wasn't going to get the help he needed if he stayed beside the river. He attempted to get his legs moving, crawling to where the bank rose up he collapsed back to the ground. It was a start, but not good enough. He had to pull himself together, another coughing spasm passed and he made it on to his hands and knees again and attempted the arduous climb off the river bank and into the trees.

He didn't know it, but it took him over two hours to crawl up the bank and get through the thin stand of trees. It was just beginning to get dark when he fell unconscious on to a walking trail.

…...

Michael woke up covered in a layer of sweat, the sheets tangled around his legs. Sitting up he ran his hands over his face and through his hair. Getting to his feet he headed straight to the bathroom to tidy himself up.

Looking into the old cracked mirror above the sink Michael looked at his reflection. His mother had called him Frank, he had scared her so much she thought her dead husband had come back to life. He knew he bore an uncanny resemblance to his father, only their eyes were different. As he studied his features he tried to imagine what he would look like carrying a bit more weight, and with muscles slack from too much booze.

The phone was ringing, with a sigh he turned away from his reflection and headed back to the bed. Maybe he needed to channel a bit of Frank Westen's vindictive nature.

"Yeah Larry." He answered the call.

"I've found someone who might know something. He is a lieutenant in the Colombian cartel he'll be in the Apollo bar from eleven until whenever he decides to leave."

"Fine." Michael answered. He looked at his watch it was six, plenty of time to clean his guns and get ready.

"You're not going to this meeting alone Michael, you should take back up. The cartel aren't exactly known to play fair. You go in asking questions and they'll probably answer with bullets."

Michael sighed. "You want to come?"

"What? Do you want to take that wet rag Axe along? He'll ..."

"Shut up Larry." He snapped. "I'll ring when I'm ready to go." He hung up the call. Throwing the phone down onto the bed. He had no intention of letting Larry know what had happened to Sam. For one, he didn't believe he would be able to cope with Larry's cheering at the death of his friend.

.

After Michael had finished cleaning the guns and had reloaded them. He tidied up his appearance as best he could, and then set about searching through the drawers on the work bench. Eventually finding what he was looking for, an ankle holster that had belonged to Sam and had somehow been left at the loft.

He slipped his SIG into the back of his waistband, and Fiona's Makarov into the front. Then the Heckler and Koch compact with the silver slide went into the ankle holster. It was eight o clock and he was ready to go. He intended on scouting the Apollo bar before the Columbian turned up.

Going over to the bed he retrieved his phone, glancing down he was surprised to see he had six missed calls. All from one number, he dialled through to voice mail and his heart jumped into his throat.

"Michael I'm at the emergency locker, come and get me." The last call had been three hours ago, while he had slept.

He tried to return the call but for some reason she had switched the phone off or the battery had died. Panic setting in, all the effort he had put into controlling his emotions gone to waste, as he ran out to his car.

It was usually a thirty minute drive to the emergency storage locker he made it in twenty. The charger skidded to a halt and Michael jumped out, handgun at the ready. Moving swiftly to the door he halted just for a fraction of a second before going through the door.

The place looked empty, he began to sag with disappointment when he spotted a small bloody foot. Disappointment was quickly turning to fear, he crept closer. Was this one of Sasha's sick games, dumping Fiona's body in one of his own supposed safe houses.

He could see her clearly now, her feet especially the soles were swollen and covered with cuts and scrapes. Her arms red raw from wrist to elbow and her face covered in scratches and bruises.

He dropped to his knees next to her, relief almost overwhelming him as he saw the even rise and fall of the chest. She was alive, cradling her gently in his arms.

"Fi." Her name came out in a sigh.

He carefully moved her hair off her face, stroking his thumb over her cheek. "Hey." He kept his voice soft, barely able to believe he had her back.

At the sound of his voice her eyes snapped open, and her fist shot out. Half expecting such a reaction he caught hold of her hand, and tightened his embrace.

"You're safe." He told her holding her trembling body tight against his, as his lips laid gentle kisses on the top of her head. "You're safe, it's ok." He mumbled softly in to her hair waiting for her to calm down.

.


	11. Chapter 11

**Out of the ashes.**

.

**Chapter eleven,**

.

Michael clasped Fiona tenderly to his chest, while continuing to lay gentle kisses on the top of her head. Just being able to hold her and knowing that she was there with him began to settle his shattered nerves. On the drive over he had convinced himself he was too late. He had missed her last call by three hours, all because he had needed to rest.

She moved her head back to look up at him, lifting a weary arm to touch his cheek with her fingertips tracing the line of tears that ran down his face.

"Shh." Her voice barely above a whisper, she could feel his heart pounding and see the concern written on his face.

He brought his hand up to capture hers, his eyes settling on the raw and swollen skin from where she had fought to free herself from the duct tape. He turned her arm, silently studying the damage from all angles.

"It's not as bad as it looks." She told him.

Frowning, he let go of her hand and turned his attention to appraising all the cuts and scrapes on her bare feet. "I'm sorry." He mumbled returning to holding her and rocking back and forth. "I'm so sorry. I should have been there." Guilt was replacing despair. He'd had numerous chances over the years to put an end to Sasha Perovic, and each time he had failed.

"Michael." She clutched at his hand, and looked up at him. "Michael." She tried again. "Shh, it's alright." She could feel his whole body trembling as she tried to reassure him, as much as he was trying to comfort her.

He looked down at her, a small smile playing on his lips. He had been given a reprieve, he would do his best to keep her close from now on. Cupping her cheek in one hand, he lowered his head to place a kiss on her lips. Soft and hesitant at first and then deepening as his tongue gained entry to her mouth and his hand tightened holding her still.

She pushed against his chest. "Michael. We have to leave." She could tell he wasn't listening to her, as he lent in again. "Michael!" She gripped his hand and squeezed it until with a gasp, he snapped out of it.

"We have to leave." She hardened her tone, giving him an order.

He stared at her, slowly blinking as if coming out of a trance. His expression changing as he became aware of their present situation.

"You can't walk." He stopped her from rising.

Getting to his feet he lifted her up, one hand under her knees the other supporting her back. At the door to the lock up she raised a hand and stopped him stepping outside.

"I might have been followed. The woman who had me was a professional." She warned him.

"Sasha Perovic, she's ex KGB." Michael replied, peering out of the door into the darkness.

There was plenty of cover for a sniper to hide, and he had left the charger over twenty feet away with the passenger door on the far side. When he had driven up, he hadn't given a thought to anything other than to getting inside. If Sasha or any of her people had been laying in wait, he would have been dead.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking." He muttered as he gently placed her on her a large wooden box. "I'll move the car closer." He announced, angry with himself for making such a rudimentary mistake.

She pressed her palm against his chest. "Michael. Calm down, it's alright." He leaned in resting his forehead against hers for a moment before nodding. "I'll cover you from here." She pulled the Makarov from his waist band, checking it over quickly.

He waited while she prepared to cover him and then sprinted over to the car, getting in as quickly as possible. He drove back to where Fiona waited parking up with the passenger door as close to the door as he could get it. He was out instantly helping Fiona into the car, before securing the locker doors and getting back in the car himself.

"So where are you staying?" She asked resting her head back against the headrest.

He glanced over at her. "The loft."

"The loft, the place they picked me up? What are you and Sam thinking?" She couldn't believe they were staying where their enemy knew exactly where they were.

"I- Well we thought.." He turned his attention back to the road leaving the rest of the sentence unsaid.

Fiona listened to him stutter, so unsure of himself. She reached over and squeezed his arm. "It's alright we'll sort all this out. Where's Sam? We need to regroup."

"I'll find us a motel." Michael replied keeping his eyes on the road. "We need somewhere you can rest up and heal." Ignoring her questions about Sam. He wasn't ready for that discussion.

…...

Sam opened his eyes, unsure what had woken him up and a little confused about what had happened. Lifting his head out of the dirt he looked around, and when he saw the dirt trail, trees and heard the roar of the river it all came back to him.

Nearly suffocating in a sinking car. The struggle to get free of the seat and then breaking the side window. Smashing his feet into the glass again and again until finally it cracked and he could punch out a wide enough hole to squeeze through.

Swimming out into a fast current with zero visibility, while fighting a strong undertow. His chest hitting a semi-submerged tree branch forcing him to let go of his breath and take in a large amount of river water before he could reach the surface.

Sam realized he must have been out of it for quite sometime. It was dark now and the air was completely still. Suddenly forked lightening lit up the whole sky, followed several seconds later by a rolling rumble of thunder that drowned out every other sound.

Sam stared with bemusement as a large drop of water hit his outstretched hand. He began to frown as that single drop was quickly followed by another and then several more. Within minutes the dry dusty trail was on it's way to becoming a mud bath.

Shivering as chills took over his body, Sam struggled up onto his hands and knees. Slowly getting to his feet he stood bent over, with his hands on his knees as the chills turned to a raging fever. A harsh racking cough nearly knocked him back to the ground. He steadied himself, and looked around, he had to decide which direction to take.

Wiping raindrops from his face he peered through the torrent of water that was falling from the sky. Squinting he thought he could make out the occasional flicker of lights in between the trees that marked the trail. Realizing he was seeing the headlights of passing traffic on a nearby road he gritted his chattering teeth and with a heavy sigh started moving.

Each step was hard work, his chest felt constricted and every breath hurt. Wrapping his arms around his torso he shuffled forward doing his best to ignore the pain that shot through his joints.

Following the sounds of the traffic he staggered along the trail. Occasional slips and falls meant it took him an age before he came out onto a road. Taking a deep shuddering breath, he raised a hand and stepped out into the path of a slow moving car trying to navigate the flooded road.

…...

Fiona sat in the charger as Michael braved the sudden torrential downpour to book into The Orange Blossom motel. A small anonymous looking place set back from the main road. She watched him turn up the collar on his suit jacket and run across from the office back to the car. A flash of lightening illuminated Michael's approach as he dodged the deeper puddles.

"I've got us a ground floor room with a double bed and a bath. We need to soak your wounds before I can clean them up." He started up the engine, doing his best to keep the water that was dripping off him away from her.

Parking up as close as he could get to their room he looked across at her. "I've got a bag with some of your clothes and a first aid kit in the trunk. Let me get the door open and all our kit inside then I'll come and get you." He was on his way, without waiting for a reply.

Fiona was happy to sit in the dry while Michael got their bags and got the door open. She was finding it harder to keep her eyes open as the last of her reserves were finally depleted. If it wasn't for the aches and pains of the days activities she could have easily drifted off to sleep.

"Hey." A blast of cool air hitting her and a flurry of raindrops made her eyes shoot open. Michael was smiling at her. "Come on, let's get you inside." He scooped her up in his arms and lifted her carefully out of the car, kicking the door shut with his heel before dashing across to their room and depositing her on to the bed.

Taking his jacket off he hung it over the back of a chair, and then ran his hand through his hair shaking out the excess water.

"I'm going to run you a bath, to get rid of the worse of the dirt and then I'll clean up your injuries." She nodded a dreamy smile on her face as she enjoyed the softness of a real mattress. Listening to the sound of the water rushing out of the taps relaxed her even further.

She must have dozed off because it seemed like no time at all that she felt the bed dip as Michael sat down next to her. She smiled as he gently stroked her upper arm. "Baths ready." He commented, his fingers tugging on the edge of the shirt she had taken off her would be attacker on the boat.

When she didn't move, he began to undo buttons. "Come on." He urged helping her strip off the dirt stained shirt and underwear. He swore softly when he spotted more bruises on her torso. "I'm..."

Fiona placed a finger over his lips. "Don't say it. Get me well and then we'll find her and if you're a good boy, you can help me kill her."

He kissed her fingertip and then lifted her again, this time carrying her into the bathroom. Placing her gently into the water. "Is it ok." He asked about the water temperature, sitting down on the edge of the bath.

"It's fine." She sighed closing her eyes as she rested her head back on his thigh.

They stayed like that for sometime, Fiona letting her aches and pain be soothed away by the bath water. Michael resting his head against the tiled wall, his fingers playing gently with Fiona's hair as he allowed all the tension and stress to flow out of his body.

Fiona was so relaxed and content, that she gave a little gasp as Michael started to pour water over her hair and then add some shampoo. His strong fingers gently massaged her scalp clearing out all the dirt, sweat and leaf litter. She smiled up at him, locking eyes for a moment before she closed hers as he started to wash out the shampoo.

After washing out the shampoo he rubbed in conditioner and started work on all the tangles, teasing the matts apart finally running his fingers through the whole length. Once free of knots he washed away the conditioner.

"You just soak for a bit longer while I sort out the first aid kit." He lent forward and kissed her forehead and then her lips. Not even minding when she wrapped a soaking wet arm around his neck. "I'll be back in a few minutes." He promised, pulling the door shut on his way out.

With a guilty glance at the bathroom door he picked up his phone and moved as far a way as he could. His call was answered on the second ring.

"Hey Kid where are you? It's ten I thought you'd want to scout the place before the meet." Larry's voice came through the earpiece.

"I can't make it." Michael announced his tone flat, no nonsense.

"What do you mean you can't make it. I thought you wanted my help with this. You've had me running around making deals and then you just pull out at the last minute. I don't think so Michael. You'd better get..."

"I said I can't make it, and I mean it Larry." He interrupted Larry's rant.

"Really and what's so important you can't keep your word?" Michael knew that tone, he closed his eyes knowing at some point he was going to pay for standing up his old partner.

"_Michael!"_ Fiona called out to him.

"Non of your business. I'll be in touch when I'm ready to go ahead." Michael ended the call. He wasn't sure why, but for now he didn't want Larry to know he had found Fiona.

"Just a minute!" He called out to her, quickly spreading a towel on the bed and laying out his medical supplies.

"You ready to get out now?" He stepped back into the bathroom.

"The water is getting cold Michael." Fiona lifted her arms up. "Help me out." She smiled at him.

"I'm going to get wet." He pointed out.

"You're already wet." She replied.

Returning her grin he reached down and lifted her out of the tub wrapping her in a towel he carried her through to the other room and dropped her down on the bed next to the first aid he had laid out.

Without wasting any more time he sat down on the edge of the bed and took hold of one of her feet. Starting the painstaking task of removing the gravel, grit and glass that would set up infection if left in place.

She grimaced as he dug out a particularly stubborn splinter. "Your nursing skills haven't improved." She hissed.

"Do you want to get blood poisoning?" He replied patiently, holding up the offending sliver of wood with a set of tweezers.

"Just get a move on." She muttered, as he turned back to his task.

"Who were you talking to on the phone?" She asked through gritted teeth as he found another item buried deep in her foot.

"No one important." He replied, keeping his head down.

Satisfied he had got everything, he coated her soles with an antibiotic gel and wrapped her feet in a bandages.

She watched him work, the way he was studiously avoiding her gaze. He was hiding something from her. "Where's Sam?" She asked, feeling sick at what his answer might be.

He ignored her, turning his attention to her arms. Which were clean and dry now and he could see they had both been rubbed almost raw.

Tearing her arm out of his hand she smacked him around the head. "Michael. Where's Sam?"

He glanced up at her then picked up the antibiotic gel. "I don't know." He admitted, his voice so low she could barely hear him. He rubbed the gel onto her arms before digging out the last of the sterile dressings he had in the kit.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Her voice went up a pitch.

Michael wiped a hand across his face, still refusing to look her in the eye. "Michael, something has happened. Tell me." She wanted to scream at him, but knew in his present state she would get more out of him by remaining calm.

He pulled out his phone and showed her the photographs he had been sent. Fiona scowled at the first few that showed her stay on the Yacht and then her face fell as she saw those of Sam.

"You think..." She handed him the phone back.

"Maybe.. I don't know.. Sam's a strong swimmer.." He dropped his head.

Fiona shuffled forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Sam's tough, like you said he's a strong swimmer. We'll find him." She kissed his neck. "Get out of your wet clothes, before you catch a chill. Tomorrow we'll go to the house cleaners office get that blond bitch's address and get some answers."

…...

Larry looked at his phone then very carefully closed it and slipped it into his pants pocket. His eyes were narrowed his mouth a thin line. Michael had stood him up. The kid had gone from being desperate and willing to almost anything to get help to turning him down without an explanation.

He went out onto his balcony, and sat down lighting up a cigar. He could think of only two reasons for Michael to back out of a deal neither were very good for him. Either Fiona had got free and had reached him or Sam Axe wasn't as dead as had been reported and had turned up to set his friend straight.

Staring out at the storm that had passed over the city and was now making it's way out to sea, Larry felt a cold burning rage building up. He hated being injured, having to rely on other people who were meant to be professionals. He eased his leg, massaging the bullet torn muscles.

He went back inside and got his phone returning to his seat outside. "Sasha. Is there anything you want to tell me?" He asked his tone friendly.

"Mikhail's little bitch has got away." She admitted. She was tired, angry and in no mood to deal with Larry's ego.

"How long ago?" He wanted to know how bad the damage was, if she had just got away there maybe a chance to rectify the matter.

"Four maybe five hours, I have a lead on where she has gone." Larry viciously stubbed out his cigar, trying to contain his anger.

"Oh I know where she is, she's with Michael probably hidden away somewhere safe and sound." He answered her, talking from behind clenched teeth.

"So what do you want to do about this?" She felt like screaming at him it wasn't her fault, it was a perverted guard that had been hired locally.

"Me? This is your problem, it's you Michael is going to be coming after." Larry chuckled.

"So you just abandon me?" She asked. She already knew the answer.

"I didn't say that." Nothing as far as he was aware could be traced back to him, he was happy to leave her to face Michael alone.

"I think Mikhail would be very interested in your part in all this, I might have to tell him." She threatened.

"Oh Sasha, you really don't want to threaten me. I'm nothing at all like Michael." He hung up, he had a lot to think about. He needed to cover his tracks and find out exactly what Michael knew.

…...

**A/N: Thank you Amanda Hawthorn for reading through part of the chapter for me. Also thank you to Amanda, Daisy Day and Storyfan101 for your best wishes. I'm all better now.  
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	12. Chapter 12

**Out of the ashes.**

**.**

Chapter twelve,

Elsa Dearbon had been travelling for nearly fifteen hours, she was tired but happy to be nearly home. The business trip to London had been successful, her hosts welcoming and very entertaining. But it didn't matter where she went in the world, she always looked forward to returning to Miami. Even when she was greeted by a thunderstorm and flash flooding.

While her limousine moved at little more than a crawl along the flooded highway, Elsa kept busy reading the reports her secretary had sent to her laptop. Only glancing up when her chauffeur braked and let out a yell, she watched in horror as a man rolled across the hood of the car and fell to the ground.

"James?" She shrieked, leaning forward trying to see what happened.

"I'm sorry Ma'am he just appeared out of nowhere." James was already removing his seat belt, and getting out to investigate. Elsa grabbed an umbrella and stepped out on to the flooded road, the water inches from entering the vehicle.

Ignoring how cold her feet were getting and that the water was ruining her shoes she clung to the car and moved to the front. To discover James trying to hold a semi conscious man up out of the torrent of water that flowed about the vehicle.

Glancing at the vehicles that passed by, Elsa realized nobody was going to stop and help. They couldn't possibly stay outside in the rain waiting for an emergency vehicle to reach them as the water continued to rise.

"Get him in the car." She shouted over the noise of the rain and the traffic. Folding her umbrella away to help the chauffeur manoeuvre the injured man onto the back seat of her car.

She looked him over feeling the feverish brow. "Go to the nearest hospital." She announced as he began to cough and groan.

At the word hospital he opened his eyes and stared at her. "No hospital." He croaked the word out, his hand gripping her arm.

"But." Elsa looked across to her driver who was waiting for instructions. The man was no help he just shrugged his shoulders.

"Please." The hand tugged on her arm. She noticed the signet ring on his finger, the gold bracelet on his wrist and chain about his neck. In her mind she was pricing these items, he was no transient. "I was attacked, if you take me to a hospital they'll find me." His eyes were pleading with her to listen, as another spasm of coughing caused him to curl up in pain.

She looked him over again, honest brown eyes, a strong jawline, not bad looking. She decided to trust her instincts. He was no threat to her. "Take me home James, and turn up the heating." She ordered the driver, and then reached for her phone calling her PA.

"Rita, get a guest room ready I'm bringing somebody back with me and call Doctor Samuels I have a patient for him." She hung up before she could be asked any awkward questions and get talked out of bringing mysterious men back to her home.

She turned her attention back to the dripping wet stranger lying across the back seat of her car. Her heart skipped a beat as she studied him. This was the most excitement she'd had in a life that had always been privileged and safe. She was fifty five years old, it was about time she allowed herself to have an adventure.

…...

It was the early hours of the morning, not long before dawn, the storm had passed by and the ground was already drying out. A figure dressed all in black lay on the flat roof of a warehouse overlooking the doors to the business premises of A1 Elite Cleaning services. Staring through the telescopic night scope attached to a M40 sniper rifle he watched as two figures also dressed in black broke into the cleaning company's warehouse.

Fifteen minutes later they came out, locking the door and resetting the alarm. The sniper flickered on the laser assist and picked out his target. Lining up squarely on the back of the shorter, feminine figure he wasted no time his finger tightening on the trigger.

Stefan Perovic followed his sister back towards the fence they had scaled to gain entrance to the industrial site. He had not been happy with this assignment as far as he was concerned it was a waste of time. They should have just blown the building and not bothered setting up an elaborate trap. He saw a red dot appear on Sasha's back, and acted immediately, shoving her forward.

Sasha Perovic landed gracelessly face down on the wet grass. Swearing in Russian she rolled over to tell her brother to be more careful. Stefan lay face down unmoving directly behind her, his neck at an unnatural angle. Drawing her hand gun she flatten down searching the darkness. The shooter had to be using a suppressor, she had no idea where the shot had come from. Carefully she inched over to Stefan he was dead, shot through the back of the neck, the ground already becoming slick with his blood.

She knew she couldn't stay lying on the ground indefinitely, the sky was already beginning to lighten. She also knew she couldn't drag her brother's corpse over an eight foot chain link fence topped with razor wire. When no more shots came, she cautiously got back to her feet.

The sniper switched off the laser assist, but continued to watch his intended target. With no easy shot, and daylight fast approaching. He decided he couldn't risk hanging about. Packing his rifle away, he made his way off the building and out of the industrial site.

…...

Even though the mattress was lumpy, and the sheets were not the high thread count Egyptian cotton she was used to Fiona snuggled down in the bed. She smiled dreamily, remembering the previous night.

Since their reunion at the storage locker Michael seemed to be a changed man. He had been treating her as if she was something precious, and though normally she might have told him off for it. After what she had been through it was nice to be appreciated and to feel loved.

She wondered briefly how long his good mood and all the affectionate behaviour would last, before he reverted to his old self. Deciding to make the most of it, she was about to turn over and see if he was awake.

When the scrape of a key in the lock changed Fiona's intentions, her hand darting under her pillow. Weapon in hand she sat up aiming at the door. Cocking the gun as the door swung open, she paused before lowering her arm. Staring at Michael, stood in the doorway with his hands raised holding shopping bags.

"Hi." He smiled at her, lowering his hands before closing the door.

"Where have you been?" She asked making the gun safe before placing it on the bedside table.

Dropping the bags, he came over to the bed and sat down next her. "I have news." He announced.

Leaning in he lifted her hair out of the away and kissed her cheek, his hand turning her face towards him so he could claim her lips. Before he could deepen the kiss, and distract her any further Fiona drew her head back.

"What news?" She asked.

"I've found Sam, or rather Sam contacted me." He stroked her cheek, his eyes focussed completely on her. The whole time he had been out, his mind had been running scenarios where she was hurt, or abducted because he had left her alone.

"Concentrate." Fiona snapped, impatient to find out what had happened.

"He's at the Dearbon Spa hotel. The woman who owns the place ran him over, and took him back to her place." Michael told her, grinning at the look of disbelieve on her face. He had felt the same way when he had listened to Sam explain what had happened.

Fiona sat back her eyes wide. "While we've been worrying about him, he's found a new lady friend?" It was something only Sam could do.

"I know." Michael replied. "He managed to get out of his car, make it on to dry land, and then literally ran into, I think he called her Elsa." He snatched another kiss, pushing her back onto the bed. Everything was good at the moment, he had his team back together and nobody was seriously hurt.

Fiona rolled out from under him, hissing as her ribs complained about the move. "We still have to find this woman who is after you. We need to get over to that warehouse and get the address of where they were holding me."

A loving and attentive Michael was a nice change from the moody and frustrated version she had been dealing with recently. But she really needed him to pull himself together now, and concentrate on the fact there was a crazy Russian trying to kill them all.

He smiled again, or rather smirked. "I've found the address we need, I thought we would go down there after breakfast."

Before he could move in on her again, Fiona got carefully to her feet. "Good, I'll get washed and dressed. You put breakfast out and then we'll get going."

Michael sat on the bed watching her as she hobbled over to the bathroom, disappointment plain on his face. With a sigh he got up and picked up one of the bags. Inside was a pot of yoghurt, two cups of coffee and a egg white only omelette in a tray.

…...

Larry opened one eye, and let out a sleepy groan. The bed was comfortable and he still ached from his variety of wounds. He watched as his phone vibrated it's way across the bedside table. With an irritated grunt he picked it up, checking the caller display before accepting the call.

"Sasha.." He answered.

"Was it you?" She cut him off, her voice so loud he moved the phone away from his ear. "If I find out it was you I'll – I'll.."

"What's happened?" He drawled, sitting up now.

"Stefan is dead." She announced. "Shot in the back."

"And you call me about it?" He asked, noting the suppressed rage in her tone.

"We were at the house cleaner's warehouse, and somebody was waiting for us. Who else knew we were going to be there?" She demanded.

"Maybe it's history repeating its self." He commented, reminding her of Michael's attempt years ago. "You know, a brother this time instead of a boyfriend."

"Are you saying it was Westen?" She spat the final word out.

"I don't know Sasha, how many trained snipers are out to get you at the moment?" He used his most patronising tone, his grin widening as she slammed the phone down.

Taking a look at the time, he ran his hands through his hair before getting to his feet. Limping over to the bathroom he planned on getting ready for the day. On his way across the room his eyes fell on the long canvas holdall that lay on the floor. He made a mental note to himself to hide the bag away before housekeeping came round.

Refreshed and feeling more awake after his shower. Larry went over to the line of built in wardrobes. He was still deciding on what to wear when his phone began rattling it's way across the bedside table again. Sitting down on the bed, he picked it up with a sigh. Expecting another hysterical call from Sasha, he was surprised to see the caller ID was blank.

"Larry, care to tell me what's going on?" Came the smooth tones of the man Michael Westen knew as Management.

"Robert, what can I do for you?" Larry knew why the old man was calling, the death of Stefan Perovic could put a crimp in his plans for world domination.

"I've had a rather uncomfortable phone call from General Perovic, his son has been assassinated in Miami. I wondered what you knew about it?" The friendly tone of the conversation didn't fool Larry for one minute.

Robert Devereaux had taught him to use that very same tone and he had passed on the knowledge to Michael. Smile, be pleasant right up to the moment you pull the trigger or push in the knife.

"Sasha called me a little while ago, I told her it was nothing to do with me." Larry replied.

"Did she believe you?"

"I redirected her attention." Larry admitted.

"So just as Michael thinks he is getting on top of things he is about to find himself under more pressure." The old man sounded pleased.

"I think Michael might be in need of a friend very soon." Larry confirmed.

"Can I trust you to get things done? I'm paying you a lot of money to make sure that this deal between the General and the Columbians to goes through."

"When have I ever let you down Robert?"

"This better not be the first time. I want results by next week." The line went dead.

Pursing his lips Larry ran the conversation through in his mind, the old man wasn't upset about Perovic juniors death. He was just concerned it would impact his own negotiations with the Russian.

He got to his feet going back to the wardrobe, time to get dressed and then after breakfast he would give Michael another call.

…...

"So you just went out to get medical supplies and breakfast this morning?" Fiona asked staring into the trunk of the charger.

Michael dropped the holdalls into the car and closed the lid. "No, I went back to the storage locker and picked up a few things I thought we might need."

She raised an eyebrow. "If I had suggested picking up sniper rifles, shotguns and enough C4 and detonator cord to blow up half of Miami..."

"Shhh." He placed a finger over her lips. "I thought you'd be happy with my plan to create a little mayhem."

"Mayhem?" One of her favourite words. She licked her lips, giving him a sultry look.

"Or havoc if you prefer." He replied, placing a kiss on the tip of her nose. "Even a little chaos." He promised aiming for her lips now.

"Mmm, mayhem, havoc and chaos." Fiona placed her hands on his shoulders. "Very tempting." She firmly pushed him back. "But after we go to the warehouse and go see Sam."

Opening the passenger door of the charger she sat down, and then closed the door. Staring straight ahead she waited for him to get in the driver's side.


	13. Chapter 13

**Out of the ashes.**

**.**

Chapter thirteen,

.

Michael drove out of the motel car park and slowed to a crawl in the morning rush hour traffic. "We should have stayed in the room until check out." He commented. "I don't know why you want to go to the warehouse I told you I had Sasha's address."

He was sulking, if it wasn't for a few worrying questions Fiona would have found it amusing. "You went out with waking me, didn't tell me about going back to the storage locker, or the warehouse. So where else did you go last night?"

He stared straight ahead at the station wagon in front of the charger, as they moved forward another ten feet. "I couldn't sleep so I went out, after getting the weapons I thought I'd save us some time and I looked up the address of A1 Elite. It wasn't far so I went down there." He turned to stare at her. "Satisfied?"

"So why the secrecy?" She knew why, he was trying to keep her away from any potential danger.

"No secrecy, I just thought you'd be pleased." He offered her a smile, and his hand settled on her thigh. "So we'll find a new base, get set up and then go see Sam?"

Fiona was looking through the windscreen her eyes narrowing as a large plume of thick grey smoke rose up into the air, blighting the clear blue Miami skyline. Looking across at Michael she noticed a scowl developing on his face. "Do you think it's?" She started to ask.

From the direction the smoke was rising from Michael had no doubt. "The warehouse? Yeah I think Sasha knew we'd go there looking for a lead. It's lucky I went in last night."

Fiona wasn't thinking about that, she was thinking that at eight o clock in the morning the employees were probably just turning up for work. "I want to see what happened." She announced.

"It's an unnecessary risk." He shook his head. "She'll be expecting us."

"I don't care." When he didn't answer her, and continued towards the city. "I mean it Michael take me to the warehouse."

With a sigh he changed lanes. "Fine." He snapped.

With his eyes fixed on the road he continued the slow tortuous drive towards the warehouse. His expression darkening when an ambulance pulled out of the turning they were about to take. "I'm telling you this is a mistake." He made another effort to change her mind.

Fiona didn't answer him, she just crossed her arms over her chest and glared. He got the message, making the turn that led to the industrial site. Ahead of them the road was blocked by parked cars and trucks. All the vehicles that had been trying to get onto the site when the warehouse had gone up in flames parked up while the drivers and passengers went to watch the action. Realizing they weren't going to be able to drive any closer, Michael pulled the charger over to the side of the road.

"That's the place isn't it?" Michael nodded towards the smouldering ruin, just visible through the throng of people standing behind a barrier of yellow tape. The police had evacuated the area so everyone who had been working nearby before the fire was now stood watching events unfold from the safety of the site entrance.

Fiona nodded, a grim expression clouding her features. This had happened because she had escaped in their van. She was seeing for the first time how far Sasha would go to cover her tracks.

"Come on. Let's see what we can find out." She was out of the car before Michael could stop her. She had to witness it all herself.

"Fi!" Michael called out in alarm, jumping out of his seat, slamming the car door and giving chase. He caught up to her, grabbing hold of her upper arm and pulling her round to face him. "There's too many people. It's not safe."

"Michael! What are you doing? Get off me!" Surprised by the intensity of his reaction Fiona tried to jerk her arm free. He wasn't listening to her, instead he tightened his grip and started pulling her towards the charger.

"Michael!" She tried to gain his attention, when that didn't work she raised her free hand and delivered a hard slap to his cheek. "Stop!"

His own hand came up as if he was about to return the blow, when he suddenly let her go, and took a step back. All the anger seemed to leave his body. "It's not safe, there are too many people. Anyone of them could be.." He tried to explain as he scanned the crowd, his hand going to the small of his back, fingers curling round the handle of his gun.

"Stop it." Shocked as she was, Fiona managed to keep her voice down. Several people stood nearby were looking their way, luckily none of them tried to interfere. She moved forward, slipping an arm around his waist, stopping him from pulling the gun out of his waistband. Her other hand cupped his cheek, fingers digging in as she attempted to keep his focus on her.

"We need to find out what happened here. Now calm down, we're surrounded by police and you're attracting attention." She felt his hand relax and come away from his gun, his eyes softening as he stared back at her.

She was right of course. He was letting his paranoia get the better of him. But knowing that didn't stop his heart beating twice as fast as it should.

"Are you ok now?" She asked, watching him closely as he brought himself under control.

He took a deep breath and nodded, stroking her arm where he had grabbed hold of her moments before. "I'm sorry, but Sasha could have people in the crowd looking out for us."

She ran her hand up through his hair, she continued to soothe. "We're ready for her this time, besides we're surrounded by cops. Now let's find out what happened."

"We know what happened. She planted a bomb just like at the car rental office. This is a waste of time." He muttered, no longer gazing at her but back to watching the crowd.

"No it's not." She insisted. He would continue arguing, until he got his own way if she didn't act. So she turned her back and walked off into the throng of people.

Michael waited a moment, taking another deep breath thinking it might help settle his nerves. Ahead of him Fiona was pushing her way through the crowd, pausing every now and again to listen in to their conversations.

Catching up to her, he was acutely aware of everybody around them. A hand reaching into a pocket, someone looking in their direction or talking on a phone was enough to have his fingers itching to curl round the handle of his gun. _Why couldn't she understand how much of a security risk this_ _was? _It was taking all that was left of his self control to refrain from grabbing hold of her and forcing her back to the car. Regardless of the consequences.

When he trod on her heel, because he was following so close, Fiona turned to face him. "Michael this would go a lot faster if you covered another part of the crowd." He was acting like she was incapable of looking after herself, and it was becoming irritating.

"I don't need to know any more." He grumbled. They were in front of the crowd now, and could see the level of devastation. Only the re-enforced iron supports that made up the frame remained, everything else was incinerated.

"Michael!" She snapped.

It was at that moment he felt his phone begin to vibrate in his pocket. "Ok. But ten minutes only and then we're on our way." He moved away from her, pushing through the crowd. He was pretty sure he knew who would be calling. A check on the caller ID confirmed his thoughts.

"Larry." He answered the call.

"So how's your investigation going Kid? You coping out there all on your own?" Came Larry's cheerful reply.

"Everything is fine. What do you want Larry? I'm busy." He replied, trying to keep his tone light. There was no need for Larry to know how things were going.

"I'd like to pitch my plan one more time. Make a deal with the Columbians and get the information you need off them. Simple and direct."

He had everything he needed, Fi and Sam safe and sound. Sasha's address and a trunk full of lethal weapons. "Thanks for the offer but I'm doing fine on my own." Michael replied.

"Really? Well see you around Kid." Larry hung up on him. Michael closed his phone slowly, thinking that the call went better than he thought it would. He glanced at the time before dropping his phone back in his pocket. It wasn't quite ten minutes, but he had given her long enough, it was time to go.

He searched through the crowd, his eyes taking on an icy glint as he noticed a tall man muscular man who held himself with a military bearing following Fiona at a discreet distance. Michael reached for his phone, and then paused Fiona didn't have a cell phone he couldn't warn her.

Cursing he started forward, trying to close the gap without attracting attention. As he drew near he pulled his gun from his waistband, keeping it close to his body so it remained out of sight. Just as the man reached out with a hand for Fiona's shoulder Michael pushed the gun into his ribs.

"Try anything and I'll drop you here and now." Michael snarled into the man's ear.

"Please, this is a big misunderstanding." The man tried to explain.

"Quiet. Fiona!" The last word was to gain her attention.

Fiona turned, about to tell him off for sneaking up on her, when she spotted him holding a gun on a man who stood inches off her back.

"Michael what are you doing?" She asked, glancing about worried that somebody else would notice what was going on.

"Let's go." Michael ordered, shoving the gun into his prisoner's ribs.

"Please." The man gave Fiona a desperate look. "I just wanted to.."

"Shut up." Michael growled.

They had reached the charger, standing on the pavement Michael pushed the man towards the bushes that lined the road.

"Michael, I think you need to calm down and think about it for a minute" Fiona attempted to get him to lower the gun.

"Honest I don't.." The man was pleading with Fiona

"Shut up! Both of you!" Michael pushed Fiona away, causing her to stumble "Now who are you?" He demanded, thrusting his gun forward.

The man licked his lips, he looked so frightened Michael was beginning to think he was wrong. "My name is.."

His leg whipped up, kicking the gun from Michael's hand, following up immediately with a punch to the side of the head. Michael rocked back against the charger, the air forced out of his lungs.

As the attacker moved in, Fiona swept his legs causing him to fall back into the bushes. With her gun in her hand she stood over him, she heard Michael straighten up.

"Michael, are you ok?" She asked.

Michael picked his gun up off the ground and looked at the other, as he tried to get back to his feet. Stepping forward his face full of anger he pressed the gun into the man's stomach. "Who sent you?" He growled, cocking the weapon.

"You shouldn't have killed Stefan. The General has put a contract on your head." Michael's expression didn't change as he listened to the man's words. He looked up and down the road, then smashed his gun into the man's head knocking him unconscious.

"Michael?" Fiona asked, watching as he rolled the body out of sight. "Whose Stefan?"

"Don't worry about it, get in the car." He replied, getting in the charger and starting the engine.

Fiona slipped into the passenger seat and he pulled away as her door slammed shut, turning round he drove back onto the main road and towards Miami.

"I'm buying you and Sam new cell phones." Michael muttered, using his mirrors to make sure they weren't being followed.

"What was he talking about whose Stefan?" Fiona was beginning to wonder what had been going on, while she had been away.

"Stefan is or was Sasha's brother." He risked glancing over to her. "Thanks for taking that guy down."

"Oh, I'm always happy to help you Michael. When you let me." She added, patting his thigh.

…...

Pulling up outside the Dearbon spa hotel Michael handed the charger keys over to a waiting valet. Fiona linked her arm through his as they walked inside through the large glass doors. They went over to the reception desk, where they were greeted by a receptionist who looked them up and down. Fiona with a swollen lip and a black eye from her time spent with Sasha, Michael with a bruise coming up on the side of his jaw from his fight at the warehouse.

"Can I help you?" She asked, trying to look welcoming.

"We're here to see Sam Axe, he came here last night..." Michael started to explain.

"Ah Ms Dearbon's guest." The receptionist attitude changed. "One moment please." She picked up a phone. "Ms Dearbon Mr Axe's associates have arrived." She put the phone down, turning back to Michael and Fiona. "Ms Dearbon will be with you in a moment."

They looked at each other and then turn towards the sound of high heels clattering on the marble floor. The woman walking towards them, was not who they expected given Sam's description. Sam had described a blonde, with legs that went all the way up, and with a body of a twenty year old.

Fiona guessed the approaching woman was in her late forties or early fifties, whatever figure she may possess was hidden by a loose blue linen jacket over a white shirt with frills down the front, a blue A line skirt which finished at her knees. Her blond hair was worn in a severe bun, and her make up was tasteful and minimal. Nothing at all like any of the other women they had known Sam to date.

"Michael and Fiona I assume." She held out hand. "I'm Elsa, I'll show you up. Sam gave us quite a scare." After shaking hands she led them over to an elevator marked private and used a key card to open the doors.

They travelled up to the penthouse suite in silence. Stopping on the top floor she led them across to one of the many rooms on the floor. Opening the door she entered and they were amazed at the change that came over the rather severe woman.

"Ah there she is." They heard Sam's voice, sounding a bit hoarse. "My own guardian angel."

"Your friends have arrived Sammy." The business like tone gone, replaced by a breathy girly voice.

"Hey Mikey, Fi. You've met Elsa. She literally saved my life." He turned his attention back to Elsa. "Come here Big Mamma and give me a bit of sugar." He pointed to his lips.

As Elsa planted a kiss on Sam's lips, Michael and Fiona looked at each other, Michael mouthing 'Big Mamma' and Fiona having to put a hand over her mouth to stop giggling.

Elsa stood up and straightened her outfit before moving away. "Just come down when your ready to leave, the elevator doesn't require a key from the suite." The flirty middle aged woman was gone and she was all business again.

Sam smiled at them, his complexion was a little grey but he somehow managed to look very satisfied with himself. "So you get beaten up, half drowned and end up being looked after by a what lonely middle aged.." Fiona searched for the right word for what she had witnessed.

"Hey don't knock it sister, Elsa owns hotels here and in three other locations along the eastern seaboard." Sam told them.

"So are you and...Big Mamma" Michael shuddered. "An item?"

"We don't believe in labels." Sam was beginning to wheeze, but he still managed to wink and raise an eyebrow.

"Ok then." Michael pulled up a chair, while Fiona strolled around the room, going to the window to admire the view. "You said you were fine." He accused

"Just a touch of pneumonia Mikey nothing to worry about." Sam managed a tired grin. "I'm getting well looked after here. Elsa's doctor has been out to see me, a little oxygen and a course of IV antibiotics and I'll be as right as rain."

"Ah huh. Sure you will. Here," Michael handed him a new cell phone, and a hand gun.

"Thanks." Sam slid the gun under his pillow, the movement bringing on a bout of coughing. "You expecting trouble?"

"We're already in deep trouble Sam. This is just a precaution." Michael pulled out his phone as it started ringing, a frown forming when he saw the name on the caller ID. "I have to take this." He got quickly to his feet and moved across the room towards the door.

As the door swung shut behind Michael, Sam craned his head round to look for Fiona. "Hey, glad to see you back in one piece. You ok?"

Fiona came over to the bed, noting Sam was attired in silk pyjamas. "Thanks I'm fine, but not doing as well as you."

He looked down, at the baby blue nightwear. "Yeah well Elsa thinks I look very dashing."

"So if you call her Big Mamma, what does she call you?" Fiona smirked, she needed a bit of light hearted banter.

"She calls me whatever she wants to, but her favourite is Boy Toy." He gave her a wide pleased grin.

"Really?" She pulled a face. _What did these women see in him?_

…

Out in the lobby, Michael paced up and down, the phone to his ear. "Mikhail?" He recognized Sasha's voice instantly.

"Sasha." He spoke between clenched teeth.

"I'm at your loft, get over here in fifteen minutes or I'm coming into the Dearbon with my men."

He had been right to be paranoid she must have followed them from the warehouse. "Fine. I'll be there." He growled, ending the call.

He stopped outside Sam's room, hand on the door handle. If he told them about the call Fiona would insist on coming with him. She would be far safer, staying here with Sam. Michael headed for the elevator, he needed to be quick or Fiona would realize he was gone and follow him.


	14. Chapter 14

**Out of the ashes.**

.

Chapter fourteen,

Pushing the call button Michael waited impatiently for the elevator to arrive, his eyes fixed on Sam's bedroom door. He expected that any second Fiona would come out looking for him, and insist on coming along. After what felt like an age the doors slid open and with a sigh of relief, he stepped inside.

He travelled down to the ground floor alternately staring up at the ceiling and then down at the floor, trying to come up with a plan of action. He still had nothing when the doors opened and he looked out on to the lobby.

About to step out, he paused. This was a four star hotel with one of the best spas in South Beach, the customers were all well off middle class families or couples. A slow smile lit up his face, the appearance of heavily armed Russians assaulting a four star hotel would draw an awful lot of unwanted attention. Not something that people about to make a large drug deal would want.

The threat was a trick to make him show himself, he was sure of it. Sasha could not know about Sam, as far as she was concerned he was dead at the bottom of the Miami river. He had been right to go to the warehouse the night before, he had been right about it being dangerous investigating a fire that they could do nothing about, and he had been right about the bounty hunter. He was positive he was right about this too. The threat to the Dearbon was nothing but a desperate bluff.

If he was correct she must be planning on ambushing him somewhere on route to the loft. From the safety of the elevator he stared out on the lobby his eyes fixing on a man sat in one of the comfy chairs, reading a paper. This man was spending more time scanning the room than reading, and he was sat as if he was ready to jump up at any a moments notice.

Michael's smile increased in size as he noticed the slight bulge ruining the line of the man's suit jacket. The bulge was a badly concealed shoulder holster. He was definitely Sasha's man waiting to let the rest of her men know when their target was on his way.

Confidently stepping out of the elevator, Michael walked across the lobby and out on to the street. He walked along, using any reflective surface he passed to check the man from the Dearbon was following him. Satisfied he had correctly identified his surveillance Michael turned into a parking garage. Heading up the stairs, he made enough noise to be sure his new friend wouldn't lose him.

Reaching the upper floors he stopped, and waited. As the man caught up Michael pounced, catching the man with a knee to the guts and as he folded up Michael brought his elbow down between his shoulder blades. With the man stunned Michael dragged him upright and held him there with an arm across his throat.

"Who are you? And who do you work for?" Michael demanded, pressing his arm in to the man's throat when he tried to struggle.

"Karl Travich." He gasped. "I work for General Perovic." Karl was pleased when Michael took a step back.

"You're working for the General's daughter?" Michael asked, he had his gun in his hand down by his side.

"We have orders. You made mistake killing his son." Karl stood up straight, aware that Westen had a gun in his hand.

Michael stared at Karl, and cocked the gun. "I need you to give Sasha a message for me." He gave Karl a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Karl nodded, and shut his eyes expecting to die.

"This is between me and her. I won't be so lenient to the next man she sends." Karl opened his eyes, realizing he was going to live. There was a retort of a gun and then a yell as Karl collapsed to the ground clutching his shattered knee. Bits of bone were scattered through the rapidly expanding pool of blood surrounding Karl's body.

"If you tear a strip off your shirt you can slow the bleeding and if you get to a hospital quickly they'll probably be able to save your leg, but you'll always have a limp." He made a quick search of the man writhing on the ground, relieving him of a handgun, before turning away. "If I see you again, I'll be aiming higher."

Michael made his way back to the hotel a happy smile on his face. Taking a deep breath, he hit the speed dial for Fiona's old phone.

"Sasha?" He kept his tone friendly.

"I hope you are on your way, The Dearbon Hotel has a good reputation yes? You do not want to ruin it."

"I've had time to think about what you said. I was wondering why I should care about what you do to a Miami hotel?"

"You think I bluff?" She replied.

"If you can risk an armed assault on a four star hotel on South Beach you're welcome to try. I mean it's not like you've got any other business deals to worry about is it? Me and Fi can always find somewhere else to stay." His smile became even broader when he heard a couple of vile swear words in Russian before the line went dead.

()()()

Fiona sat next to Sam's bed, the talk of his latest lady friend calling him her boy toy, had ended their conversation. She was trying to figure out what an obviously intelligent business woman could see in Sam. It was beyond her understanding, how he got these women to fawn all over him, it was disgusting.

She studied him, as he lay back on his pillows with his eyes barely open. He wasn't as completely awful as she first thought. Admittedly her opinion of him had been prejudiced by their first meeting. He, and a team of SEALs had interfered in one of her gun deals seven or eight years ago. Arresting her Libyan contact, and confiscating her very expensive products. They had traded shots, she had caught him in the thigh, and he had used a bazooka to sink her perfectly good fishing boat. Forcing her to swim to safety, ruining a new outfit.

Now though she thought of him as a faithful old booze hound who was good at gathering intelligence and a reliable backup when the bullets started flying. He was Michael's best friend and much to her surprise she realized he was hers too. Becoming unsettled with her thoughts, she looked towards the door Michael had walked through fifteen minutes earlier.

"So what's going on." Fiona asked, breaking the silence. When Sam looked at her, raising an eyebrow. She continued. "I mean, with Michael taking mysterious phone calls he won't talk about."

Sam looked uncomfortable. "Have you asked him about it?"

Fiona's eyes narrowed, he was hiding something. He had that guilty look, that he only wore when Michael was trying to hide something from her.

"He closes down, or changes the subject." She sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning towards him. Her nose inches off his. "What's going on Sam? I can tell when you're covering up for him."

Normally this would be when he would take his leave. Getting out of the door as fast as he could, however that was not going to happen this time.

"You should know how worried he was when I told him you had disappeared." He started explaining. "He went to pieces."

"What did he do?" She knew it was going to be bad.

Sam felt he was betraying his friend but Michael needed to be stopped, and Fiona was probably the only one who could do it. "After he finished shouting at me for not being there, he called Larry."

"Larry? Dead Larry?" She stood up looking towards the door. He had been out there a long time. "He promised me, us. He shot him and he promised never again." Her mind was in a whirl, he had promised her no more lies. "How did he, I mean. How did he know..." She couldn't get the words out.

"He had a contact number, hidden in the door frame." Sam took a guess at what she was trying to say "Fi, he was scared for you and he's mixed up, not thinking straight. Talk to him before you start throwing punches." He couldn't remember a time when he had seen her looking so hurt.

They both turned their heads at the sound of the door being opened. Michael stood in the doorway, his hand on the door handle and a wary look on his face. He paused, then with a toothy smile stepped into the room closing the door behind him.

"Hey, look. I know we've not been here long, but we need to find a place to stay tonight." He wanted to lead any of Sasha's men lurking about away from Sam.

"I'll talk to Elsa, get you a room here. I tell you Mikey even the regular rooms are..." Sam tried to sit up a little more, eager to keep them both close.

"No." Michael answered sharply. "We should stay somewhere else, nobody knows you're alive. Let's keep it that way."

Both Sam and Fiona were not fooled by his excuse, something else had happened. "That's alright Sam." Fiona gave him a knowing look. "You need your rest, and me and Michael have a few things to discuss."

Michael caught on to Fiona's tone, and shot Sam a look. Sam at least had the decency to look ashamed. He had told Fiona about Larry. Michael sighed this was going to be bad.

"We should go then." He spoke flatly. "Take it easy Sam. We'll call back in the morning." He waited for Fiona to say goodbye, noticing how she lent over Sam. The pair of them having a whispered conversation before she stood upright and giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She promised.

()()()

They drove across Miami in silence, Fiona kept her head turned away from him staring out of the window. Michael kept his eyes on the road, unwilling to be the one breaking the quiet. A few sudden changes of lane and doubling back a couple of times convinced Michael they weren't being followed.

They had a safe house in Hialeah, a small apartment over a convenience store. Parking the charger in a space behind the store, they went up a narrow steel staircase and unlocked the re-enforced door. Inside the apartment was a small kitchenette, a lounge with a old sofa that could be opened up into a bed, a table and a couple of dining chairs. In another room was a double bed and a chest of drawers.

Turning on the lights, Michael walked across the room and stood behind one of the dining chairs, with his hands resting on the chair back he faced her. He knew she had been waiting for this moment since they left Sam. He watched as she closed the door, and lent back against it. He was surprised, and a little unsettled when instead of anger, he saw sadness in her eyes.

He made sure he was out of kicking distance. Ideally he would have liked something more solid than a chair between them. At least there wasn't any weapons to hand, and though she had a gun in her jeans waistband he didn't think she would shoot him.

They stared at each other, neither one willing to start the conversation. In the end Michael broke first. "Ok, what did Sam tell you?"

"Larry. Really Michael what were you thinking?" Fiona pulled her hair back, and pinned it into a loose bun.

"You were gone, we had no leads. I called him because I thought he was involved. But he offered to help, he used his sources to try to find you." He tried to explain.

"Can you hear yourself?" She snapped, she had promised she would remain calm. But just thinking about the undead ex-spy made her seethe. "He offered to help and you believed him?" She couldn't keep the scathing tone out of her voice.

"I would have done whatever I had to, to get you back." He replied, his own temper beginning to rise.

"So what exactly did you do? What was Larry's price?" This was the crux of the matter for Fiona. Whenever Larry was about, Michael slipped away from her. The last time she thought she had lost him forever.

"It doesn't matter." He waved his hand in dismissal. "It's over."

Fiona was on her feet now stalking him, she held her hand out. "If it's over give me your cell. We'll delete his number. And tomorrow you get a new SIM."

"I'm not a child Fi." He let go of the chair and began to pace, staying out of her reach. His head bowed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose trying to fend off the beginnings of a headache.

"Well you're certainly acting like one. How many times has Larry nearly ruined your life? And you keep a contact number?" Over the last couple of weeks she had learnt to recognise the signs of an impending display of temper. But she was too angry herself to care. She was sick of all the lies.

"Fi. Just drop it please." His head was throbbing, tension building behind his eyes. He was desperate for her to back down, before he snapped.

"Answer one question for me and I'll let the matter go." She demanded, standing still.

He stopped his pacing and nodded, briefly making eye contact.

"What did Sasha want you to do?" He wouldn't talk about Larry, she would try an indirect approach.

"What?" He asked.

"She was holding me as leverage. So what did she ask you to do?"

"She didn't. She must have been softening me up before coming in for the kill. She hates me Fi." He tried to explain.

"So the person who kidnapped me, and tried to kill Sam has asked nothing from you. But how many jobs have you worked for Larry?"

She watched as he digested what she had said, he was beginning to see what she and Sam had been thinking all along. Somehow Larry was involved in everything that was happening.

"No." He shook his head, not willing to believe he had been played and he'd fallen for it so completely.

"Michael, you have to tell me what you did for him." She took hold of his arm trying to hold him still.

He shrugged her off, he needed to get away and think things through. He headed for the door, finding Fiona had reached there first. She stood blocking his escape.

"Get out of the way Fi." Aggression seemed to be rolling off him in waves.

"No." She stood her ground.

His fist pounded into the door next to her head, his eyes cold. "MOVE!" He yelled.

She flinched, but refused to obey the order. "Where are you going?" She managed to keep her voice level.

"_Out_." He growled. "Get _out_ of my way."

"You should stay here with me." Her heart was pounding in her chest, but she had done this before, calmed him down, convinced him not to runaway. She could do it again.

Reaching out for his arm, she was shocked when he grabbed hold and threw her across the room. As she rolled across the floor she heard the door slam. Getting to her feet, she rubbed her arm where he had grabbed her. Luckily she was still wearing the bandage to protect her damaged skin.

Hearing the charger door slam she ran to the door flinging it open. She could see him sat in the driver's seat, hands on the steering wheel. Fiona held her breath, expecting to see the car disappear down the street. Instead he just sat there unmoving, she took a step outside to confront him. But stopped herself, she wasn't going to chase after him. She was going to wait for him to come back to her.

()

Michael stormed down the steps, fumbling to get the keys for the charger out of his pocket. His hands were shaking from the build up of the adrenaline coursing through his body. Reaching the car he opened the door and dropped into the seat. He sat staring ahead, with his fingers flexing around the steering wheel.

Hearing the door to the apartment crash open, he flinched. Only slightly relaxing when the door shut again, without the sound of her footsteps descending the stairs.

He turned the key in the ignition his foot stamping down on the accelerator making the engine roar to life. Lifting his foot slightly he stamped down again making the engine pulse. Over and over again he repeated the action the noise soothing his tattered nerves.

()

Inside the apartment Fiona sat curled up on the old sofa her tiny body trembling from the shock of Michael's violent reaction. She heard the charger's engine roar to life, and then a pulsing growl as Michael revved the engine. She waited, to hear the squeal of tyres letting her know he had left her.


	15. Chapter 15

**Out of the ashes.**

**.**

Chapter fifteen,

.

The loud angry roar of the charger's engine ceased. Fiona sat upright listening intently, expecting at any moment to hear the engine start up again followed by the squeal of tyres. Instead there was just an eerie silence, not even the sound of a car door opening and closing or Michael's footsteps on the stairs. She was itching to get up and see what was happening outside, but she stopped herself. Sitting back she closed her eyes and took a couple of deep calming breaths.

She was tired, tired from all she had been through, the kidnapping and the escape. Mostly though, she was tired of being constantly on edge, of having to watch what she said or did. Never knowing if Michael was going to be sweet and loving, or tense and looking for a fight. He could go from one extreme to the other within seconds. She wiped her hand over her eyes. There was still no noise from outside.

()

Michael sat in the charger, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. Slowly he relaxed his fingers, and lifted his foot off the accelerator. Reaching down he switched off the engine, his hands dropping limply onto his lap. All the frustration and anger had left him feeling weak and light headed. A wave of dizziness struck, screwing up his eyes he laid his head back against the headrest waiting for the feeling to pass. He wondered if this time Fiona would be able to forgive him. Not only for working with Larry, but for what he had just done. He didn't even know if he had hurt her. He looked down at his hands, at the knuckles of his right hand the skin had been split open yet again.

With a sigh he reached for the door handle, then stopped. _What the hell was he meant to say to her?_ He raked his fingers through his hair. Just saying sorry wasn't going to be enough this time. Fiona had been through so much and he had made it all so much worse.

Maybe he should just go, with all that was going on he was too dangerous to be around. A turn of the key and the engine would spring to life. He would be on his way, everyone he cared about would be safe, and he could go back to thinking solely about himself.

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, it was all such a mess. He had to find a way to fix it, because he couldn't leave. Just the thought of it made him feel sick. He had been trained to leave with only thirty minutes notice, at one time he could have walked away from them all without a backward glance. But not any more, they were all he had, without them to keep him grounded in the real world he would end up like Larry, or worse.

Fiona had once asked him how he could work with Larry knowing all the things he had done. He never told her about the things he'd done, or he'd let happen. He didn't have the nerve to tell her of his past reputation for always completing his missions, of doing whatever it took to get the job done. He had been proud of that reputation.

He threw his head back against the headrest trying to think of a way to make things right. He knew at some point he had to go up those stairs, and face what he had done. Hopefully she would take him back. He sat for a while longer building up the courage to face her.

()

Fiona was desperate to see what was going on outside. It had been quiet for so long she was beginning to wonder if he was alright. She steadied her nerves determined not to give in, he had to learn she was not going to continually run after him. She could not carry on with the way things were. All the lies and deceit, the lack of trust and violence had to stop.

She looked up when she heard his footsteps on the stairs. Her legs uncurled from beneath her, and she went to stand up. No. she sat back down and composed herself, he had to be made aware of what he was doing to them all. She was surprised when he didn't walk in, instead there was a quiet knock.

Fiona cleared her throat, waited a moment before calling out. "Come in Michael."

She heard the key in the lock, and the door swung open. He was stood in the doorway, expressive blue eyes begging forgiveness, she hardened her heart.

"Fi." Michael breathed the word out his voice husky with emotion, remaining in the doorway unsure of his welcome.

He could see she had been crying, he noticed how pale and drawn she looked. He had done this to her, it was all he could do to stay where he was. The urge to rush to her side and crush her body to his was almost overwhelming.

"I said come in." She was going to be cold, make him understand this was his final chance.

Michael entered the room closing the door behind him. Unsure what she wanted from him, he hesitated. Eventually he took a chance and walked over to the sofa, sitting down next to her. He continued to stare at her, hoping he could make it all right.

"I'm so sorry." Three little words he seemed to be repeating so often, they were beginning to lose their meaning to those around him.

He reached for her hands but she snatched them away crossing them over her chest, putting up a wall between them. He looked at her realizing she wanted more from him. He felt a little twinge of irritation but pushed it down.

"What exactly are you sorry for Michael?" She asked regarding him coldly, when all she really wanted to do was kick him across the room for being such an ass, and then shower him with kisses.

He looked at the bare floorboards, a shiver ran through his body. "Fi." He pleaded, neither one of them was any good at baring their souls.

"I need to know, that _you_ know what you've done. That we – _I_ can't carry on like this." She relented enough to move her hands back onto her lap. He clutched at them desperate for contact.

"I never meant to hurt you. I'll delete Larry's number if that's what you want. Tell me what you want and I'll do it." He promised, sliding closer to her. Raising her hands to lay gentle kisses on her fingertips.

She turned to face him, he looked lost, almost terrified. It was not a look Michael Westen should ever wear. She freed her hands to cup his face between the palms, looking deeply into his eyes.

"I want you to start trusting us, trusting our advice. I want you to stop the lies and hiding what you're doing." He was nodding to all this. She tightened her grip, she wanted to be looking him in the eye for the next part. "When this is all over I want you to start taking the meds and make an appointment to see the occupational therapist."

"Fi I -" She held him still, she wasn't going to let him dodge answering her demands. "Ok." He agreed.

"Ok?" She asked.

"Yes. I'll try my best to do what you want. The whole thing." He answered, rubbing his cheeks when she finally let him go.

Her face lit up in a smile, she slipped her arms around his neck and drew him towards her, soft lips brushed against his, before ever so slowly deepening the kiss. He returned the pressure, a feeling of relief settling over him. Wrapping his arms around her waist he pulled her towards his lap. When his head was rocked to one side by a hard slap that made his cheek sting. He jerked his head back staring at her in shock.

"That's to remind you of the promise you've just made." She announced.

He rubbed his cheek, he supposed he deserved it. His hand went back to her waist when another harder slap landed in the same place as the first.

"Fi!" His eyes were watering from the blow.

"And that was to remind you what will happen if you break that promise." Fiona stared at him making sure he got the message.

"Are you finished now?" Michael asked cautiously.

He flinched slightly when she lent in and kissed the cheek she had just slapped. He began to relax as she continued to kiss her way round to his lips, his jawline and then his neck. He kept still as her fingers slipped in between the buttonholes on his shirt and then closed his eyes. The buttons from his shirt flew across the room as she ripped it open.

"Shouldn't we take this into the bedroom?" He asked his hands beginning to roam over her body.

"_No_" She growled into his ear, as her fingers worked on his belt buckle.

()

They lay on the hard wooden floor, their bodies covered in a light film of sweat. Fiona's head rested on Michael's shoulder one of her hands splayed out on his chest, and a shapely leg draped over his hips. She stared at the steady deep rise and fall of his chest under her hand. Looking up only when he gently moved her hair off her face.

"I think I picked up some splinters." He commented.

She smiled up at him, her eyes full of mischief. "Well let's have a shower and I'll see what I can do for you. I think I left some tweezers in the bathroom."

He grimaced. "So I'm still being punished?" He asked. Then gasped as she slapped her hand down on his stomach.

"Shower, Michael. It's nearly dinner time and I'm hungry." She climbed to her feet in a quick graceful move, holding out a hand to help him up.

()

After a long and energetic shower Michael laid back on the bed, it had been quite a while since he had felt as relaxed as he did now. He couldn't help the smile that made the corners of his lips curve upwards. An honest, genuine smile of happiness.

"Michael you need to get dressed." He raised his head off the bed at the sound of Fiona's voice, dropping it back down when he heard the steady drone of her hair dryer. He could relax a little bit longer, it would take her ages to dry her long hair. Besides his clothes were in the trunk of the charger along with hers, and he was tired.

The hair dryer went quiet. "Michael I'm going to want something clean to wear."

With a sigh he got up, and went searching the lounge for his clothes. Pulling on his pants and shoes he headed towards the door, then stopped. Turning back he picked up his gun and after checking it over he slipped it into the back of his waistband. Stepping out of the door he scanned the surrounding area, before going down the stairs and opening the trunk.

With the holdalls on the ground he slammed down the lid and came face to face with Sasha Perovic. His hand flashed towards his gun, when it was pulled roughly from his waistband. He caught sight of two rather large men holding fully automatic machine pistols standing behind him. One of them was now holding his SIG loosely in his hand.

"Michael." Sasha smiled, her expression icy cold. "Call to Fiona please." The Russian accent barely noticeable now she was calm and in charge.

He shook his head, outwardly relax, but watching for any opportunity to grab a weapon. Sasha was going to kill him anyway, if he could make a fight of it the noise would alert Fiona and give her enough time to escape. He needed a distraction of some sort, to get to the bag of weapons at his feet. He waited patiently something would happen allowing him to make a move. He was sure of it.

"Yuri go upstairs and get the woman." Sasha spoke to the shorter of the two men guarding him.

As Yuri reached for the charger's keys, Michael tensed. He grunted in pain as a hard blow to his spine knocked him on to his hands and knees. He watched as Yuri took the keys out of the trunk and head towards the stairs. Rather than worry about the pain radiating through his back Michael tried to focus on how the blow put him closer to the bags and the weapons inside.

"Only two men Sasha, you're hurting my feelings." Michael tried to make light of his predicament.

Sasha ignored his comment. "Tell her to come out quietly and I'll end her life quickly."

She lent over him, pushing her handgun under his jaw to force his head up. Looking him in the eyes. "Or I'm going to make you watch while I take my time peeling off her skin."

She nodded to the man who had knocked him down. "His name is Roman, he has been with my family for years. He trained with Stefan in the army. In moment I'm going to tell him to break your back. Cripple you for the rest of your short life."

A loud unmistakable crack of gunfire caused Sasha to turn to towards the stairs. Michael reacted instantly, lashing out with a heel catching Roman in the groin causing the man to collapse. Wrenching the machine pistol from Roman's hands Michael opened fire cutting the Russian almost in two.

Turning towards Sasha, confused that he hadn't already been shot. Michael found himself staring into the barrel of her gun. Looking around he saw the reason why he was still alive. Yuri's body lay in a bloody heap at the bottom of the stairs, and Fiona stood in the doorway with her Walther aimed straight at Sasha's head.

"If you shoot, your boyfriend dies." Sasha shouted.

The gunfire had brought more of her men from where they had been waiting out of sight. Fiona from her position just inside the door was safe, none of Sasha's men could get a clear shot at her.

Fiona froze, knowing it wasn't an idle threat, anything other than a head shot and Sasha would have time to pull the trigger.

"And if you or your men try anything other than leaving, I'll take your head off." Fiona called back.

"Michael drop the gun." Sasha ordered, confident she would get out alive.

Michael ignored her, from his position he could easily take a kill shot, but then Sasha's men would kill him. "Fi?" He called out, unwilling to take his eyes off Sasha.

"I'm fine." She called back, satisfied she was uninjured Michael placed the machine pistol down on the ground.

"You will never be safe." Sasha told him. "We will hunt you down and kill you slowly." She backed up until she reached the car waiting for her.

Michael slowly climbed to his feet, rubbing his back. Fiona rushed down the steps, dressed only in Michael's ruined shirt. She reached him running her hands over his body, Michael watched her puzzled until he realized he was covered in the blood of the man he had shot.

"I'm ok, Fi." He caught hold of her arms. "I'm fine, it's not my blood."

She ran her hands over his face, staring into his eyes. Wanting to confirm his words herself. Slowly she relaxed and took a step back. They both looked around, Yuri's body was crumpled at the bottom of the stairs. Shot through the heart after entering the apartment and finding Fiona waiting for him with her gun ready to fire. Roman looked even worse, having taken a large amount of bullets to the chest.

"We need to leave now." Michael spoke urgently as the sound of police sirens could be heard in the distance.

Fiona nodded. "Go clear our stuff out of the apartment I'll sort out down here." She had come down the steps barefoot in her concern for Michael, and her feet were killing her. The keys were still in the door, Michael threw them down to her. They only had minutes before the police would arrive.

.


	16. Chapter 16

**Out of the ashes.**

**Just a thank you to Amanda Hawthorn for checking over parts of this and most of the other chapters in this story. **

Chapter sixteen,

In the apartment Michael was picking up all the towels, clothes and every personal item he could find throwing it all into a large trash bag. With that task completed he turned to the next, quickly wiping down all the surfaces hoping to remove most of their fingerprints. There was too little time to do a more thorough job.

"MICHAEL!" Fiona shouted up the stairs. "We need to go _now!_"

"Coming." He shouted back.

A wave of dizziness struck out of nowhere, he managed to get a hand to the wall in time to stop himself falling, as his knees buckled. He sagged against the wall, breathing through the sensation until it passed.

The dizziness began to fade so doing his best to ignore the nausea he was now feeling, he grabbed up the bag and ran out of the door and down the steps.

Fiona had gathered up all the weapons and bullet casings, she had also scuffed up the ground trying to hide what had happened. The only clues left were the two bodies, which they had no intention of taking with them. The police sirens were louder now, they were moments away from being caught at the scene.

After throwing the bag into the trunk Michael got into the drivers seat. Fatigue and a pounding headache were now competing with the nausea in trying to floor him. He carried on, determined to concentrate and stay awake long enough to get Fiona to safety.

Driving as fast as he dared through the late afternoon traffic, Michael wasn't that surprised when a black SUV pulled in behind them. "Fi we have company." He spoke over his shoulder to where she was pulling on her clothes.

Fully dressed, Fiona climbed into the passenger seat placing an open bag between her feet. It contained a variety of guns loaded and ready to fire and several small cubes of C4 with detonators already attached.

"Get us off the main roads and find us somewhere quiet Michael." She had a wide excited smile on her face. This was what she lived for, a chance to settle a life and death situation with guns and explosives.

He glanced down at her collection of weapons. "Just like Berlin?" He asked.

"Exactly like Berlin." She smiled back. "Only you're doing the driving this time, and I'm going to have all the fun."

Eventually they left the houses, and stores behind and entered an area filled with derelict warehouses. Michael winced when he heard the brake light glass break and more shots hitting the trunk. He turned and glared at Fiona, who like a child in a candy store was studying her choice of weaponry.

"Fi, we're not going to have much of a car left if you don't do something." He spoke through clenched teeth, swerving the charger across the road as more shots came their way.

Satisfied she had the right gun for the job, Fiona rolled down the window and leaned out holding one of the Russians own machine pistols. She sent out a spray of gunfire, bullets pinging off the front of the SUV.

"Try ricocheting the bullets off the ground, the underside of the car probably isn't armoured." Michael tried to help, as he swerved again.

"You concentrate on driving while I deal with the slime following us." Fiona growled back, having to catch hold of the door frame to stop herself falling out due to Michael's evasive driving. However she did alter her aim.

"I was just offering..." He saw what they had been looking for. "_Fiona!"_ He spoke urgently.

Turning Fiona looked round and her smile if possible got even broader. "Oh Michael you read my mind." Abandoning the pistol she dropped into her seat and picked up the cubes of C4.

"You're going to have to let them get closer." She told him.

He slowed slightly as he took a couple of tight turns round the derelict buildings while waiting for Fiona to prepare her devices. Michael gritted his teeth as a bullet disintegrated his wing mirror. He had only got the charger back just over two weeks ago, and now it was wrecked again.

"Aren't you ready yet?" He demanded.

"Patience Michael, you couldn't do this any quicker." Fiona would not be rushed, with a flourish she finished preparing her timers. "I'm ready now." She announced.

"About time." He complained, under his breath. Spinning the steering wheel hard to the right Michael headed towards their target. Or rather targets.

"Ready?" She grinned her whole body tense with excitement

He looked her, with a matching grin. "Ready." He agreed.

He sent the charger down a narrow alley between two buildings one wall was lined with dumpsters filled with scrap metal. She threw the cubes of C4 out of her window, each cube landing in a different dumpster.

As soon as the last explosive left her hand Michael pushed his foot to the floor sending the charger rocketing along the road. Behind them as the SUV passed the first dumpster they began exploding, sending jagged pieces of metal out in all directions. Fiona twisted around in the seat her eyes alight with joy at the devastation she had caused.

"Do you think Sasha was in that car?" She asked.

"No." Michael replied bluntly, screwing up his eyes as another wave of pain hit. He just had to keep going a little longer.

They drove on in silence for a while, making lots of turns to check they were no longer being followed. Satisfied it was safe, Michael started driving towards Miami. His headache was getting worse, his vision fading in and out. Knowing he couldn't carry on much longer he pulled over to the side of the road and let his head rest on the steering wheel.

"Michael?" Fiona touched a hand to the back of his neck as he lent over the steering wheel. "What is it?"

"Hurts." He muttered, his eyes were screwed up tight. This was by far the worst headache so far.

"Were you injured?" She thought he must have caught a bullet during the chase, but she couldn't see any fresh blood on him.

"Tired." He cracked an eye open a fraction. "Mah head hurts." He slurred.

Unsure what to do for him, she shook his arm. "Michael can you move over so I can drive?"

Fiona opened her door and climbed out, then leaning in she tried to help him move over. Once he was in the passenger seat she wrapped the seatbelt round him to hold him in place. She ran her hand through his hair.

"Hold on a while longer, I'm going to find us a motel." She told him, her voice full of concern.

Getting into the drivers seat Fiona started looking for somewhere to stay. Michael sat with his eyes closed head resting on the window the occasional whimper escaping his lips as he fought to stay awake.

Finally Fiona found what she was looking for, a small motel with a private car park where the bullet riddled charger would be hidden from view.

"Michael, I'm just going to book in." Fiona laid a hand on his forehead, he was pale and clammy he looked back at her through red rimmed eyes. "I'll be gone for a minute." The only answer she got was a blink of the eyes.

Five minutes later she was helping him into the room and on to the bed. The walk inside even with Fiona's help took what was left of his strength. He collapsed onto the bed, curling up into a ball. Fiona stood looking at him gnawing on the knuckles of her right hand. Coming to a decision she pulled off his shoes, and pants and covered him with a blanket.

Sitting down on a chair next to the bed she got out her phone.

"Yello Fi how's it going?" Came Sam's cheerful voice.

"Sam. Sasha came after us, we've got away but Michael has collapsed, he complained his head hurt and he felt tired. We're in a motel and his sleeping now." The words came out in a rush.

"Calm down Fi it's probably the effects of doing too much. Let him rest, just keep checking on him. It happened before, when you were taken. When he wakes up make sure he eats something." He paused and coughed. She could hear him gulping down a drink. " Are you sure you lost your tail?"

"Oh they won't be going anywhere." She smiled at the memory, before turning her attention back to Michael's still form, running her fingers along his cheek.

"Ok, How about Mike. Did you manage to get any answers out of him?"

"No, but he's promised to answer our questions, and delete Larry's number."

"You think he'll keep to it?" He sounded skeptical.

"Oh yes." Fiona answered very sure of herself. "I made it very plain what would happen if he didn't keep his word."

"O-kay then." Glad that she didn't go into details. "So what's the plan?"

"I think once Michael is feeling better we should meet up and he can tell us how much trouble he's in."

"Sounds like a plan to me sister. Just watch your backs." He replied.

()

Larry was sat in the Area 31 restaurant on the sixteenth floor of the Epic hotel. Facing him dressed in an elegant rose pink shift dress Sasha was looking delicate and ladylike. Her pale blond hair was styled in loose curls, her make up minimal making the most of her flawless pale skin. She looked at him over her glass of vodka, her grey eyes dangerously cold.

"So Michael got away. What is that, three times in one day?" Larry smirked, leaning back in his chair.

"It won't happen a fourth time." Putting down the glass, she picked up a spoon and took a mouthful of her dessert. "My father arrives in three days. Have you got rid of those Columbians who are against the deal yet?"

"I thought he wasn't due here for another week?" Outwardly Larry was relaxed and all smiles. But he was cursing silently, realizing he was going to have to accelerate his own plans.

"Stefan's death means he wants the deal secured as quickly as possible. Don't let us down Larry, my father doesn't like or trust you. If you fail, Michael might end up with company in a watery grave." She gazed at him while licking cheesecake off the spoon.

Larry lent across the table, taking Sasha's hands in his own. To anyone passing by they looked like a loving couple as they stared into each other eyes. "Oh if I go, I'll take you with me." He murmured.

She smiled sweetly, taking back her hands and returning to her dessert. "You say the sweetest things Larry. Now, where do you think Michael might go?"

"I have no idea. You've covered all his known hideouts. Maybe you should look into the little gunrunner's friends." He answered. Knowing that trying to get answers out of Fiona's friends was at best going to be very frustrating.

"I'll give that some thought." With her dessert finished, she ran her tongue over her lips. "Now I think I would like to check your wounds. Make sure they are healing. Yes?"

Larry stared back at her, this was what he liked about Sasha she was a real professional. A meal followed by a friendly little interrogation and then she would try to gain more intelligence with some pillow talk. He had no doubt after he completed the assassination of the four Columbians if given an opportunity Sasha would take great delight in extracting information out of him by more painful methods.

"Yes. Let's do that." He agreed getting to his feet.

He would have to be creative with her death, it would have to look like an accident. Wrapping an arm around her waist they walked slowly towards the elevators. It would take some thought, she had threatened him with a watery grave so maybe he should return the favour with a yachting accident. He felt her hand make it's way under his shirt, and decided he would put his plans for her demise on hold until the morning.

Sasha ran her hand up Larry's back until he winced where his ribs were still bruised from Michael's bullets hitting his bulletproof vest. She would have to remember when she made her move, to go for a head shot or maybe she should check her box of poisons something painful that took it's time to work. They had reached his room, for now she pushed her homicidal thoughts to the back of mind. She pulled his head round and pressed her lips hard against his, pushing him into the room.

()

Fiona spent a restless night waking every hour to check on Michael. She wasn't used to seeing him so still and unresponsive. Normally the slightest noise or movement woke him, and more recently he would dream almost throughout the night frequently thrashing about, fighting whatever demons haunted his sleep. But this time, even when she crawled in to the bed next to him and then manoeuvred his body so she could snuggle up against him he didn't stir.

It was daylight, the sun shining in through the thin curtains when Fiona woke up to a stubble covered chin rubbing against her skin. Soft lips pressed gentle kisses along her throat travelling up to her ear. She responded, bringing her arms up around his neck, her body moulding itself against his in a passionate embrace. Strong supple fingers tangled in her hair, holding her still as his mouth covered hers in a deep kiss full of desire.

Breaking away for a moment she looked him over, he was pale with dark circles under his eyes. But from the way his hands were now roaming over her body she guessed he was feeling better. His lips were back on hers, his tongue running along her teeth begging for entry to her mouth. She gasped as he shifted covering her with his body, his weight resting on his elbows he continued to kiss and caress her body with his mouth.

"Michael." She gasped out his name.

"Mmmm?" He replied, ceasing his ministrations to gaze at her with lust filled eyes.

"Sam... said you... were to rest." She stuttered, as he nuzzled on her neck.

"Sam's. Not. Here." He growled into her ear.

Fiona let out a long sigh as he moved his hips closer, claiming her completely. Her mind and body were transported away in the heat of passion all sane and sensible thoughts gone, whisked away by wave after wave of pleasure.

They lay locked in each others arms as their breathing began to slow, eyes losing the glaze of ultimate pleasure. Michael slowly eased away until he was lying on his back, his hands behind his head. Fiona followed his movements and ended up with her head resting against his shoulder.

"Hey." He murmured.

"Hey." She replied, looking up at him. "So you're feeling better?"

"I just needed to rest, you said something about Sam?" He grinned flashing his teeth. "Not what I was expecting to hear at the time."

"Nothing, it was nothing at all." She ran a finger down the soft skin of his chest, feeling the hard muscles that lay underneath.

()

It was several hours later that they arrived at the Dearbon, travelling up to the penthouse they were surprised to find Sam out on the roof top garden. Dressed in multi coloured surf shorts he lay relaxing on a sun bed sipping on an iced tea. He still had a catheter in the back of his hand, but at the moment he wasn't attached to anything.

"So you're feeling better." Michael commented sitting down on the edge of the neighbouring sun bed.

"Sure am brother. I've got to couple more days of antibiotics and then I'll be as right as rain." Sam beamed, but then coughed curling up to try and ease the pain the coughing caused his ribs.

Once he had got his breath back he took another sip of his drink before speaking. "Fi says you passed out again last night. You've got to take it easy Mikey before you make things worse than they are already."

"Talking about making things worse." Fiona sat down next to Michael, her hand slipping easily into his. "Sasha found us at the Hialeah safe house, and she didn't follow us there we were both watching for a tail. We only just got away before the police turned up. It's not going to take long before there are warrants out for our arrest."

"Jeez Louise." Sam shook his head.

All three sat in silence while a maid served them all with iced teas, and took away Sam's empty glass.

"Thank you Mariposa." He called out to the woman as she walked away. He then turned back to his two friends, coming up with only one answer to their problem.

"Mikey I think you're going to have to talk to the Feds. Tell them about the Russians and where they can find Larry. Make some sort of deal while you can."

Michael dropped his head down.

"Michael?" Fiona squeezed his hand.

"I had to do a job for Larry to get information on Sasha." Michael kept his head down. Neither Sam or Fiona spoke, but waited for him to continue. "I took a disk from a bank safe deposit box, being watched by the Feds. Larry had the surveillance lifted while I was in there. If I go to the Feds Larry will release the tape showing me taking the disk and implicating me in a double murder."

"Murder?" Fiona pushed.

"The house I broke into, Ross Dawson and his wife were killed a couple of days ago. I think the disk is the financial records I was sent to steal."

It was Fiona who broke the silence. "Tell us where Larry is staying and we'll get the disk off him." She announced with a smile, it was something she had wanted to do since the first time she had spoken to the man. To have the chance to put a bullet between his weasel eyes.

"Really Fi?" Michael questioned a sneer in his voice. "Do you think Larry is that easy to kill?"

Fiona and Sam were taken back by his tone, and the look on his face. Sam stepped in before Fiona could let rip. He wasn't up to refereeing a fight.

"How about you calling him for a meeting Mikey, get him out of his room so Fi can search it. Just in case he has the disk, even if he hasn't there might be something else we can use."

Michael turned to Fiona, the sneer gone replaced with concern. "You ok with me doing this?"

She nodded not trusting herself to speak.

"Ok then I'll make the call now." Michael got to his feet and moved away to talk to Larry.

Fiona turned to Sam her eyes blazing. "Putting him in contact with Larry?" She hissed.

"Fi, I want you to do something for me." He looked to check Michael was busy. "Go to my place there's a key under a stone ornament thing, shaped like a cat. Collect one of my shirts any of them the brighter the better and hang it in Larry's wardrobe."

She gave him a quizzical look. "Why?"

"He's going to know you've been in his room." He started to explain.

"I know how to conduct a search.." Fiona snapped, looking even angrier when Sam held a hand to stop her rant.

"Think about Fi, could you search Mike's room without him knowing somebody had been there?" When he saw her pout, he knew he had won. He tried to hide his smirk of victory.

"Larry is twice as paranoid as Mike. He is going to know somebody has been there and I want him to think it was me. I want him hunting down those guys who were meant to drown me, while he is also trying to find out where I'm hiding. Maybe with a few more tricks we can put him off his game enough for whoever is bank rolling him to consider him a liability."

She nodded now understanding. "It's about time someone played a few mind games on that..." Sam stopped her words, nudging her leg with his foot.

Michael was walking back over. "I've got a meeting at six tonight he won't leave the hotel though it's in one of the bars."

"That'll be fine." Fiona agreed. "You just have to keep him busy. The longer the better." She smiled.


	17. Chapter 17

**Out of the ashes. **

**Thank you Amanda Hawthorn and Daisy Day for all your suggestions and ideas during a marathon e Mailing session. I hope you both enjoy...**

Chapter seventeen,

It was mid-day, the sun was shining, and Larry Sizemore was irritated. He had been ordered to abandon a nice little scheme he had been working on. All because an ex KGB General who had control over part of the gas pipeline that supplied most of Europe was arriving three days earlier than originally planned.

So now he sat in a car he had hired under a false name, watching a run down house in Overtown. Three of the men he was looking for had already entered the house, he was just waiting for the fourth to arrive. Tapping on the steering wheel Larry controlled his annoyance at having to rush the job.

A black Lexus pulled up and a short heavily built Latino male got out, openly carrying a large ivory handled handgun on his belt. Larry picked up the photograph of the last man he was looking for, confirming the man's identity. Dropping the photo back on the pile, Larry waited until the target entered the house, and then raised a garage door remote control. Pointing it at the house he pressed the open button and watched as the house became a fireball.

Larry stared at the burning building for a few minutes making sure that nobody escaped the blaze. He listened to the screams of the people trapped inside with disinterest. The growing crowd, and the sound of sirens in the distance convinced him it was time to go.

Starting up the hire car he drove away, four Columbians dead as ordered well more like eight or nine. But definitely the four he was being paid for, the rest were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was an attitude that had caused him problems with his CIA bosses in the past. But the people who employed him now didn't care about collateral damage as long as the job was done.

Twenty minutes later he was sat in a cafe at Bal Harbour admiring the view. The four Columbians already forgotten, it was a lesson he learnt early in his life as a spy. You finish a mission, forget about it, and move on to the next.

_The first step on any mission was to gather intelligence._

On the table he had two cell phones. One was his, the other contained Sasha Perovic's SIM card. Before she left his room in the early hours of the morning, Sasha had made the mistake of having a shower. Larry had taken the opportunity to swap out the SIM in her cell phone and set up call forwarding so he could monitor her phone calls. It was an old trick, and it truly amazed him the amount of people who should know better, who fell for it.

So far the only call of interest had been from her father. The General had berated her lack of success at killing Westen and threatened to send her back home if she didn't get results quickly. Larry had been very interested to hear her tell the General about the bugs she had planted in his room. That was something he would take care of once he got back to his suite.

_The next step to make contact with the target. Ideally you want to make the target seek you out. Let them think it was their idea.  
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First though he had another little bit of business to take care of, Michael had called him while he had sat waiting for the quartet of 'deadees'. The kid had finally come to his senses, it had taken three attempts on his life by a psychotic Russian. But now he was calling on good old Larry for help, and naturally he was only to happy to offer any assistance he could.

_Then ensure nobody compromises your target's new alliance._

All he had to do now was make sure nobody interfered with Michael's change in attitude. After taking a sip of his cortadito coffee, he rang Sasha. As soon as she answered, he gave her the good news. "You can tell your father his deal can go ahead now."

"All four?" She asked sounding surprised.

"Yes. All four. You see Sasha, when you do your job properly, it takes no time at all." He patronized.

"I see." Her voice came through clipped and angry. "Is that the only reason you called?"

"No." He replied. "I have a little job for you. It may rid you of one of your own problems." He added an incentive.

"What do you want me to do?" She asked cautiously.

"I'm at Bal Harbour come meet me and I'll explain."

"I'll be at least an hour. I have things to do." She replied.

"Fine see you in an hour." He answered ending the call.

_One of the best games a spy can pull off is to make one enemy take out another. It's a difficult trick to manage but makes the job so much more fun._

Larry moved his chair round for a better view of the harbour, raising his hand to the waitress to order another drink while he waited. Slipping on his sunglasses he relaxed back, today was going to be a very good day indeed.

()

Climbing out of the taxi, Michael stood on the pavement looking up and down the street hoping to see Fiona. Only she was nowhere in sight, probably already in position he thought. With a heavy sigh he got out his cell phone as he headed inside the Epic Hotel.

"Ok Larry I'm here, where do you want to meet?" His eyes scanned the hotel lobby, checking out all the exits and looking for anybody who might be watching out for him.

"Poolside bar kid sixteenth floor." Came Larry's easy tones.

"I'm on my way." Michael replied his tone clipped. He was on edge, he didn't want Fiona searching Larry's room. He didn't want Fiona anywhere near Larry full stop. But he had been out voted, it reminded him why he had always preferred to work alone.

Stepping out on the sixteenth floor Michael paused to send Fiona a one word text message, 'go'. Larry was sat at a table under an umbrella, a fancy cocktail in his hand. With a toothy smile in place, Michael gave his old mentor a hearty wave.

"Sit down Michael, what brings you out to see me?" Larry returned the smile and kicked out a chair for the younger man to sit down.

"I was a little short with you the last couple of times we spoke. I thought I should come over and mend fences." Michael took the seat and lent back, one leg crossed over the other and his hands resting on his lap.

"Really?" Larry took a sip of his cocktail, a crafty glint in his eye. "Because I thought it might be to do with Sasha Perovic hunting you down for killing her little brother." Larry smirked, laughing at the expression on the face of the younger man.

"Michael, I know what is going on." He patronized. "I mean one man with a shattered kneecap. Two dead after a shooting in Hialeah, and an SUV blown up, all the dead are Russians. The police think it's the start of a gang war. But I see the hand of Michael Westen."

Michael inclined his head. "Ok I admit, when you put it that way you're right. Sasha is becoming a problem."

"So what do you want from me?" Larry asked carelessly.

"Advice, Fiona thinks I should go to the feds, try to cut a deal." Michael announced.

Larry lent forward his eyes as cold as ice. "You don't want to do that kid."

"Are you threatening me Larry?" Michael stayed sitting back in his chair, but the smile had gone.

"Not a threat, you asked for my advice. Do you know what's going on?" Larry relaxed back now as well.

"No. Why don't you tell me." Michael looked relaxed but he was having a hard job maintaining the illusion. Larry was playing with him, he got the impression the older man knew everything and was just enjoying the game.

"Really? What has happened to you?" Larry sounded disgusted. "Ok let me explain it to you. Robert Deveraeux or as you call him Management is one of about six people that are powerful enough to remain hidden after you handed that NOC list over. The only piece of evidence that could have implicated him was on that disk you stole." He let the younger man digest that piece of information before continuing.

"Robert has the disk and like it or not, you now work for him." He held up a hand stopping the out burst he saw coming. "Michael stop being such a boy scout, a rich powerful man wants to be your friend. But you become involved in another Federal investigation I'm pretty sure hell will rain down on your head and everyone around you."

"He ruined my life, I'm not going to become his mercenary." Michael shook his head, he made a fist digging his nails into his palm trying keep control. He wanted nothing more than to draw his gun and shoot Larry between the eyes.

"You're on your own then kid. I hope you like prison food because when you get caught that's where you'll spend the rest off your life. Or you can speak to Robert, accept his offer and I'll help you with Sasha."

"Fi also thinks you're working with Sasha, she thinks you've benefited most from her kidnapping."

"If _you_ were thinking clearly, you would remember the Perovic family always use their own people. Why would they need me? Do yourself a favour, stop taking advice from some minor terrorist, who has no understanding of world affairs."

Michael went quiet, his eyes narrowing as Larry insulted Fiona. The urge to plant a bullet in the man was becoming stronger. He got to his feet, half smiling when he saw Larry tense.

"I should go." He announced, he doubted he had given Fiona enough time to do a thorough search but he couldn't stay any longer without seriously harming Larry.

"Ok kid, take a day to think about it. After that...well I wouldn't like to be you."

Michael got back into the elevator texting Fiona 'get out now'.

()

Fiona had slipped into the hotel through the employees entrance and after a visit to the Manager of housekeeping office to steal the master key card. She made her way up to Larry's suite, as soon as she got the text from Michael she entered the undead spy's lair.

Fiona wasn't sure what she expected to find when entering Larry's suite. Torture devices? Maybe the heads of his latest kills displayed on the walls? At least an altar to worship the Devil. Disappointment flickered over her face when she found none of those things. Just an ordinary hotel suite, not even a weapon in sight.

Keeping to the mission, she first fitted Sam's bug into the phone, making sure it would be noticed. Then moved on to the wardrobe, she hung Sam's ugly bright red shirt covered in green palm trees amongst Larry's more conservative dress shirts.

Noticing a bag in the very back behind some shoe boxes, she dragged it out undoing the zip to expose a sniper rifle, and a full box of ammunition. Fiona considered sabotaging the weapon, but it would take time best spent searching for evidence of what Larry was up to. So she put it back not bothering to make an effort to hide it's discovery.

Fifteen minutes later Fiona stood in the middle of the room she had just searched every conceivable hiding place and found nothing. Scowling in annoyance she considered going back to the car she was using, getting a block of C4, and going with her preferred plan of action. Her phone began to vibrate, before she had a chance to ruin Sam's plan. Reading the message she collected the key card and left in a hurry, Larry was possibly on his way back.

Pulling off her latex gloves, she headed back the way she had came. Returning the key card without being seen she went out the employees exit.

"Fiona, it's so nice to see you again." Sasha stood six feet away from her, her arms crossed over her chest.

Fiona turned slightly sideways, partially to make a smaller target, but also to hide she was drawing her Walther from the back of her waistband.

"So what now?" Fiona asked. "We shoot each other and Larry wins?"

Sasha cocked her head to one side. "What do you have in mind?"

"Gunfire is going bring witnesses, we're next to a busy street in case you haven't noticed. Why not move back a bit." Fiona suggested, nodding towards where a row of large containers which would block the view from the street.

"No." Sasha answered. "I think I kill you here." She uncrossed her arms exposing her Glock fitted with a silencer.

"I might be harder to kill than you think." Fiona, managed to flick the safety off and cock her gun, all she needed now was a distraction.

"Where is Michael?" Sasha asked.

"Here."

Sasha turned towards the voice, and Fiona made her move. A gun shot would bring witnesses and the police. Larry would know it was her and not Sam. Fiona launched herself forward, wrenching the gun from Sasha's hand and fired the silenced weapon.

Both women fell to the floor, Sasha on top of Fiona, neither one moving. Michael rushed forward, dragging Sasha limp corpse off Fiona's slight frame. Her top was covered in thick sticky blood. "Fi!" He opened her shirt looking for a wound, and relaxed when he found none.

Fiona opened her eyes, and sat up noticing her top hanging open exposing her bra. "Michael?" She queried, looking him in the eye. "What are you doing?"

"I thought – I was scared. I thought she had shot you." He finally managed to get out.

"Is she dead?" Fiona asked.

"Yeah, you got her right through the heart." Michael told her. "We should go."

"Give me your shirt." Fiona had stripped off what was left of her own top. Then noticed that Michael wasn't moving. "Stop gawking like a school boy Michael, and give me your shirt." She punched his arm to get his attention.

"What? Oh yeah, sorry." He grinned, and removed his shirt.

Snatching the blue striped dress shirt out of his hand's Fiona slipped it on. "There. We can go now." She announced, and then closed in on him, her hands playfully running over his bare chest causing him to back up.

"Fi." He hissed, glancing around. "What are you doing?"

"Making you uncomfortable." She replied, grabbing his hand she led the way towards her car. As they walked she got out her phone and dialled 911. "Hello police. I think a woman just committed suicide behind the Epic hotel." She hung up and looked up at Michael. "That's one problem dealt with, now it's just Larry."

"No, now we'll have to deal with her father." Michael replied in a flat tone.

"We'll get through it." She wrapped her arms around his waist, laying a kiss on his chest on top of an old scar. "Me, you and Sam."

()

Larry stood in front of his wardrobe, staring at a shirt that definitely did not belong amongst the line of crisp freshly pressed dress shirts. On the bed lay several listening devices, two had been placed by Sasha they were of Soviet design. Another if he didn't know better had been had been made by a certain washed out, dead ex navy SEAL. Biting his bottom lip Larry scanned the room, somebody was playing games.


	18. Chapter 18

**Out of the ashes.**

**A/N: Ok to all those who asked, I know I said I would probably post on Monday but I finished this chapter early.  
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Chapter eighteen,

Larry pulled the bright red shirt covered with green palm trees out of his wardrobe, and screwed it up in his hands wringing it out as if it was the ex SEAL's neck. With a snarl on his lips he threw the garment on to the bed. The badly creased garment landed, covering the listening devices he had discovered a little earlier. The two of Soviet design were the ones Sasha had planted, it was the third one that angered him even more than the shirt.

It was the cobbled together electronic device that had convinced Larry that Sam Axe was alive. He remembered seeing the exact same design very clearly on a mission they had worked together. It was right before the sanctimonious, bleeding heart do-gooder handed in a report that got him another reprimand.

So Axe wanted to play games, try to put him off balance. Well it was a game two could play and he was the master of deceit and manipulation. He would find out where the old wet rag was hiding, and finish the job Sasha had been incapable of doing.

Larry reached down picking up Sam's home made bug, turning it over in his hand. Smiling as he thought, with a little bit of sleight of hand he could turn Sam's work against him.

The sound of sirens outside caught Larry's attention. Throwing the bug back onto the bed, Larry walked out on to his balcony. Just in time to catch a glimpse of a squad car disappearing around the side of the hotel closely followed by an ambulance. Hopefully they were there for either Sasha or whoever Michael had watching his back. Fiona was the most likely candidate, Sam though would have enjoyed nothing more than planting the horrendous shirt and the crudely made listening device himself.

Flipping open his phone Larry made a quick call to a woman who worked in the police dispatch office to find out what had just happened outside the Epic hotel. After they had agreed her fee, and arranged payment she told him the call was regarding one body, a blond female with a single bullet wound directly to the heart.

With confirmation of Sasha's death, Larry got a drink from the mini bar and started running through the next steps in his plan to force Michael into accepting his true nature once and for all. He had only just sat down on the balcony with his celebratory drink, when his cell phone began to ring. Frowning when he saw there was no name on the display he accepted the call.

"Larry." Robert Devereux rasped. "I've just heard some very disturbing news."

"I have no idea what you're talking about Robert." Larry replied keeping his tone neutral.

"Really? A shooting outside your hotel, and you have no knowledge about what happened?"

"I had a meeting with Westen, the kid seemed almost ready to make a deal." Larry offered.

"Sasha Perovic is dead, killed outside your hotel where you had a meeting with Westen. Care to make a comment?" The old man was coming close to losing his temper, Larry could hear it in the impatient tone.

"She must have found out about the meeting and tried to take him down, I did warn her not to go after him." Larry lied smoothly.

"The General has already put a contract out on Westen, fifty thousand dollars for him delivered alive. I imagine that will go up now. Whatever you're up to Larry, don't let it interfere with my deal. If I don't get control over that pipeline I will be looking for someone to blame." The threat was very real, and Larry knew it.

"It might be worth your while to talk to some of your friends in the FBI then. Get them to help keep some of the facts hidden from our Russian friend." Larry commented.

"If I do that, I want results. I want Westen ready to sign up in two days."

"I'll see what I can do." Larry suspected Devereux was having him watched and now it was confirmed. He would have to be more careful from now on until after he had completed the assignment. He would also have to find out where the surveillance team had made their base.

"Just make it happen. If I have to take over this mission it will not be with such a light hand."

With the call ended Larry sipped on his drink, he had two days left to push Michael over the edge. It was for the kid's own good. If the old man took over the recruitment, Michael would be made to watch all his friends and family slaughtered until he complied.

()

Michael kept glancing at Fiona, as they walked hand in hand along the pavement, mingling with the tourists who were out in force. He couldn't help it, she looked radiant, her long hair moving gently in the breeze, a sparkle in her eyes and a happy contented smile on her lips. She had got what she wanted, her tormentor was dead. Michael reluctantly found himself agreeing with Larry, Fiona had no idea what she had done.

Larry's warning had been very clear, if he didn't submit and accept Managements offer, hell was going to rain down on them all. The FBI would be hunting him for the theft of the disk, and Sasha's father would not only hunting him for the death of Stefan, but Fiona for killing Sasha. At least he could do something about the last part.

Unable to keep silent any longer, Michael came to a stop turning Fiona so she faced him. "I want to take responsibility for the death of Sasha. I'll make sure the word goes out it was me, then you and Sam will leave Miami." He told her, his voice deadly serious.

Fiona sighed, she thought they were passed all this. "No. we're better as a team." She reminded him gently.

He looked down at her, his hand idly playing with her hair. "I'm not losing my mind Fi, you don't understand what's going on. You don't know what Sasha's father is like, what he is going to do to the people who killed his children. Let me take the blame, and once it's settled you can come back."

"Really? Gee thanks Michael." She could keep the sarcasm out of her tone.

"I mean it Fi, this isn't open to discussion. You're both leaving I'm not being outvoted on this." He had his hands on her shoulders, his grip a little too tight to be comfortable.

Fiona glanced towards the road as several police cars came passed. "We should go. We'll discuss this later, with Sam." She pried his fingers from her shoulders and pulled him along towards her 'borrowed' car.

Michael allowed her to lead the way over to a new model Saab. They were no longer the happy couple of a few minutes ago, Michael's expression was closed, his eyes scanning those around him suspicious of anybody who looked their way. Fiona's lips were a thin line her good humour vanquished by Michael's paranoia and protectiveness.

()

They drove back to the Dearbon hotel in silence, Fiona putting the car back from where it came. As they walked across, from the parking lot to the hotel Fiona couldn't bare it any longer. Things had just started to go well for them, and now he was pulling away again. One meeting with Larry was all it took, for him to decide it was too dangerous for his friends to stay nearby. She should have taken that C4 and planted it under that devious weasel's bed like she had wanted to do in the first place.

"Michael." She stopped walking and spoke his name softly.

He turned to look at her, his expression still closed off, his arms folded defensively over his chest.

"You need to tell me what has you so worried." She crossed her own arms, copying his stance.

"You wouldn't understand Fi." He answered her his tone flat, turning he went to continue walking.

"Well explain it to me?" She rushed after him catching hold of his arm, feeling his bicep tense under her hand.

He looked at her, his eyes wide unsure what to say. She moved closer, her grip on his arm holding him still. "Why do you have to sacrifice yourself for us?" She spoke clearly, her warm breath caressing his bare chest, unsettling him further.

"Fi – I." He stuttered. His own hand stroking her arm, barely making contact with her skin.

"Answer the question." She murmured her voice so low he had to lean in to hear her words.

"Larry is working for Management. He told me if I don't agree to work for him, he'll rain down hell on all of us." He told her, his hands absently slipping to her waist.

"We've been threatened with that before and we survived." Dismissing his reasoning, her arms wrapped around his waist, and she looked up at him.

"But Sasha's dad is coming after us as well. He makes Larry seem like a boy scout." He bent his head down aiming for her lips.

Fiona moved her head back. "So the sensible thing to do would be to stick together and come up with a way to get rid of this nasty old man." She let him brush his lips against hers in a soft gentle kiss.

"Fi. I know what you're doing." Michael whispered in her ear.

"Am I wrong? Aren't three heads better than one when dealing with nasty old men?" She asked, pushing her point by moving even closer and kissing his chin.

Michael groaned and pulled her into his body. "Fine. You can both stay but you do things my way."

"Thank you Michael." She gave him a kiss on the cheek and slipped out of his arms. "We should let Sam know what's happening."

"You have a cruel streak Fiona Glenanne." Michael replied dropping an arm over her shoulders.

"It's because _you're_ so stubborn Michael, _you _drive me to it." Fiona slipped an arm around his waist, her former good humour returning. They had reached the door of the hotel when she grinned up at him. "Of course, if you had continued to resist I would have kicked your butt until you agreed."

()

Sam had been worried about Barry Burkowski, ever since he had received the call at the marina. The money launderer had dropped plenty of hints that something was wrong, and thinking back Sam realized if he hadn't been so preoccupied at the time with Michael's behaviour and Fiona's abduction he would have been far more alert to the warning he was receiving.

So while Michael was meeting with Larry, and Fiona was committing a bit of breaking and entering, Sam set about finding Barry's number. After ringing around a few contacts Sam managed to get the number he needed to make the call.

"Yesss." Hissed a male voice, but definitely not Barry.

"I'm looking for Barry?" Sam answered.

"And you are?" Came the question.

"Tell him it's _Sammy._" Sam replied getting a bit annoyed.

Moments later. "Sam! Thank god! I tried to call you but your phone..." Barry's voice came over the phone.

"Calm down Barry. What happen to you?"

"I couldn't help it Sam I'm sorry." Barry apologized. "But I did manage to get them to offer me money for information."

"I'm so happy you managed to make some money out of my kidnapping Barry." Sam's voice was dry.

"No. You don't understand, I got their bank details I've traced their accounts." Barry explained.

"Barry I could kiss you." Sam announced happily. The more good news he could give Mikey at the moment the better. "So what have you got?"

"First off you are not kissing me Sam." Barry stated. "Now if we're clear on that, I'll tell you the money they paid me came from a Grand Cayman account, which I traced through sorts of shell companies before running into a wall. But I did find two other accounts who have received money from that account and one of them belongs to a Miami resident Curtis Bower." Barry paused.

When he didn't get any response, with a huff he continued. "I think you'll be interest to know Bower received Five grand just before your kidnapping and another five straight afterwards. I've also got a copy of his address and police record."

"Thanks a lot Barry, and I don't care, you're getting a big wet kiss when I see you next." Sam began to laugh until he was cut short by a fit of coughing.

"You keep saying things like that, and I won't tell you about the second account." Barry replied, secretly pleased, and relieved that there were no hard feelings.

"Ok Barry, just tell me." Sam chuckled.

"This second account I can't get a name but it has received several payments from the Russians and it has also received a lot of money from all over the world."

"Barry could you find out..."

"I'm already on it. Er just one thing, how's Mike these days?"

"About the same. Why?"

"It's the guy that grabbed me, threatened to tell Mike I got you killed and.."

"It's fine Barry nobody has told Mike anything. I'll explain it to him." Sam could hear the worry in Barry's voice.

"Thanks man, I mean he's pretty scary at the best of times, but now."

Then the relief when he promised to sort it out. "Don't worry your fuzzy little head about it Barry. Just see what you can dig up on that second account." Then as an after thought he added. " Er, It might be better if you get out of Miami for a while Barry. Take a long trip if you get my meaning."

"I already have." Came the reply. "I'll be in touch when I have more. Say hi to Mike and Fi for me, and take care Sam."

After the call, Sam sat back in his chair staring at the Shirley Temple cocktail before him with disgust. "Only two more days." He told himself. "Then I'm having the biggest Mojito I can get my hands on." The staff were under strict orders from Elsa not to serve him any alcohol until he had finished the antibiotics.

()

Sam looked up lazily from where he was still lounging enjoying the early evening sun, expecting to see Michael and Fiona walking in. Instead he sat up as he saw Elsa sauntering across the patio in high heeled sandals and a short silk dressing gown. In her hands she held a large bucket of what smelt like fried chicken.

"Hey what's this?" He asked, torn by his desire for the fried chicken and the woman that held on to it.

"You said it's your favourite." She announced, sitting down next to him, patting his knee.

"You're my favourite, pumpkin." Sam laid a kiss on her cheek, while reaching into the bucket for a piece of his favourite fast food. "You joining me?"

She shook her head. "I have a charity dinner to attend." She turned as they both heard footsteps approaching across the floor. She glanced at her watch. "I have to get ready, and your friends are back... From." Her words trailing off as she took in Michael's and Fiona's appearance.

Fiona was wearing jeans which looked like they had rust coloured spots over them at least Elsa hoped it was rust, and a man's shirt far to large for her dainty frame. It had to be Michael's shirt as he was wearing suit pants yet was shirtless.

When Elsa had picked Sam up, she had been lonely and craving a bit of excitement in her life. Sam was a big lovable teddy bear as far as she was concerned, funny, and charming with just a hint of danger and mystery about him. His friends though worried her, Meredith the concierge had reported they had arrived this morning in a car which looked like it had been in a gunfight.

She gave Sam a kiss on the cheek. "I'll be back later, you be a good boy."

Sam's hand patted her bottom. "Sammy is going to be a very good boy." He told her leaning into her. "The meds will be finished soon Big Momma, and I'm already feeling so much better." He leered.

Michael and Fi returned Elsa's nervous smile and waited for her to leave. Fiona pulling a face at Sam's antics. "Really Sam how do you find these women?" She hissed after making sure Elsa was out of hearing range.

"It's all down to my good looks and charming personality." He smirked sitting back on the lounger and grabbing another piece of fried chicken. "So how did it go? And why no smiling faces?" He looked from one to the other.

Fi slumped down in a chair facing him. "There was nothing in Larry's room except a sniper rifle and a lot of ammunition." Her eyes brightened. "Then I ran into Sasha outside the hotel."

"And?" Sam demanded when neither of his friends answered.

"I killed her." Fiona grinned. "She's out of our lives for good. Only Michael isn't seeing it that way."

Michael hadn't joined them, he was leaning against the wall that surrounded the roof garden, ignoring them both.

"Mikey?" Sam raised eyebrow looking for an explanation.

"Management is going to be coming after us, unless I go to work for him. If I attempt to go to the feds Larry is going to release the tape that shows me collecting the disk from the bank. Oh and General Perovic will be coming after the people who killed his children with everything _his_ got. So _pardon me_ for not seeing any of this as a good thing." He answered Sam's question without taking his eyes off Fiona.

"Ok then, we need to find away to get rid of Perovic without you going to jail or having to sign away your soul." Sam did his best to sound jolly. "That shouldn't be too difficult." He wasn't very convincing.

"This isn't a game Sam. Perovic won't let the death of his children go unpunished." Michael was off the wall pacing in front of them. "We have no way of stopping him, short of killing him and his entire family."

"How about we deal with this one problem at a time." Sam suggested.

Michael paused, he knew that tone. "What have you got?" He came over now, his hands wrapped round the back of Fiona's chair.

"I spoke to Barry and I have the address of the one of the guys that tried to drown me. He is also looking into another account that has a lot of anonymous transactions, I'm thinking it's Larry's."

Michael let out a long sigh. "How does Barry know any of this?"

"He was captured and tortured into setting me up, but he some how managed to con their bank details out of them."

"Barry set you up?" Michael was suddenly a lot more alert.

"I don't think he had much choice Mikey. Besides I'm over it, I'm more concerned about having a little talk with the guys who tried to drown me." Sam answered. He held up his phone for Michael to take. "He's sent me one of the scumbags name, address and police record."

"Ok me and Fi will go see him tomorrow." Michael handed the phone on to Fiona.

"No we'll all go see him tomorrow, I want to have a word with him myself." Sam replied defiantly.

"You're sick." Fiona answered, with a smirk.

"Yeah Fi, what about you? Feet and arms feeling fine now. You're just as sick as me lady." He delved into his bucket of chicken pulling out another piece. "I'm coming along, and that's an end of it."


	19. Chapter 19

**Out of the ashes:**

Chapter Nineteen,

"Sam. You are not well enough to go out!" Elsa walked along in front of Sam, doing her best to stop him leaving on some fool's errand.

Reaching the elevator doors she faced him with her hands on her hips, and a defiant expression on her face. Elsa Dearbon was not used to having her advice ignored.

"Listen baby." Sam paused. "This is something.. I have to... Do." He wasn't going to admit it, but getting out of breath just walking from his bed to the elevator doors was worrying.

"You sound awful." She added, prodding him in the chest for emphasis. "More like an asthmatic old man, than my Boy Toy."

"Mike and Fi will be with me.. Now come on pumpkin.. I'll be back in an hour." He cajoled taking hold of her wrist, and laying a gentle kiss on the palm of her hand.

"One hour." She moved closer, looking him the eyes.

"Two at the most." Sam replied, edging passed her, and pressing the button to call the elevator. "Don't worry.. Mike won't let anything happen." The elevator arrived, and he cradled her head between his hands and drew her in for a deep passionate kiss. "See you soon Big Momma." He smiled as the elevator doors closed.

Elsa stepped back a little breathless from the kiss, she wasn't sure how he did it, but Sam Axe had a way about him that made her feel special. Turning to a nearby mirror she smoothed her hair and checked her make up.

"Pull yourself together, you're acting like a teenager." She muttered to herself. Turning away from the mirror she walked across to her office, smiling sweetly at her PA Rita who sat at her desk pretending to study the company diary.

()

Sam walked slowly though the lobby, acknowledging the greetings he received from various members of staff. Once outside he was pleased to find Michael and Fiona sat waiting for him. The car of the day was a plain beige Buick four door sedan. Slipping into the back seat, Sam sensed the tension in the air. He looked at his two friends, both of them were sitting straight backed purposely ignoring the other.

Michael's expression was stony, after a muttered "Hi." He concentrated solely on driving. Fiona had only offered him a brief half hearted smile of welcome before turning her back, folding her arms across her chest and staring moodily out of the side window.

Sam was well use to the couple's little disagreements. This one appeared to have gone passed the hurtful words, and slamming doors, and was into the sulking, moping about stage. Sometime later, hopefully when he wasn't present they would have the fight, (literally) and make-up, before returning to normal. He had seen it so many times now, he didn't let it bother him any more.

"So what's the plan?" He asked.

Fiona turned in her seat, her eyes simmering with barely suppressed anger. "_Michael_ thinks it would be best if _we_ wait in the car while _he_ secures the scene alone." She told him.

"Mike?" Sam questioned, he knew he wasn't up to an armed assault but going in alone when it wasn't necessary was plain ridiculous.

"It's one man. I don't need help." Michael replied, keeping his eyes fixed on the road.

"How about waiting until we do a bit of surveillance first, and see what we're facing?" Sam played the peacemaker.

()

Michael stopped the sedan along the road from Curtis Bower's house, working as a freelance hitman obviously paid well. The house was well maintained, in a quiet neighbourhood, with a lot of families judging by the amount of bicycles, balls and basket ball hoops he could see. A nice anonymous place for a spy or a hired killer to live. His neighbours probably thought he was a salesman.

Winding his window down, Michael stared out at Curtis Bower's house, he couldn't see any cameras or alarms attached to the house. Everything was quiet, it occurred to him it was too quiet. Looking along the road he spotted two empty houses, either one would offer an excellent sight line to any half decent sniper. He briefly glanced across at Fiona, and then back at Sam, two people who meant the most to him in the world.

It was too dangerous for them to sit around doing surveillance. The list of people who wanted them dead seemed to be getting longer every day. He knew they wouldn't leave, so he was going to have to speed things up. If he acted fast he could take anybody watching off guard. Without any warning Michael left the car at a run before either Sam or Fiona could react.

"Mike what are you doing?" Sam shouted but he was too late.

Fiona and Sam looked at each other. "Well what are you waiting for? Get after him." Sam ordered.

Michael ran down the side of the property, scaling a five foot wooden fence as if it was nothing. Dropping down the other side with his gun at the ready, he made his way up to the house. Creeping along the wall until reaching the back door he peered into the kitchen, it was empty. Somebody was home though, he could hear a TV in the background.

Trying the door handle, Michael scowled when he found it was locked. He was pulling his lock pick set from his pocket, when the doorbell rung. Freezing, Michael knew it had to be Fiona at the door. She was trying to take Bower on by herself. Cursing Michael crouched down and set to work on the lock, he had the door open in time to see Bower emerge from another room.

()

Curtis Bower was relaxing on his sofa watching TV, he had earned enough money recently that he could afford to take a break. There were six empty beer bottles laying on the carpet, and the ashtray next to them was overflowing. The loud ringing of the doorbell jerked him out of his daze, grumbling he got to his feet and padded out of his lounge to the front door.

"Yeah." He scowled at the tiny auburn haired woman who stood smiling at him. "What do you want lady?"

"I'm looking for a friend, his name is, Michael." She could see Michael approaching silently.

"I don't know any Michael lady go bother..." He got no further as Michael struck him on the back of the head with his handgun.

"Michael." Fiona spoke lightly. "Very sneaky."

Hearing his name, Michael looked up. "You should have waited until I said it was safe. Go get Sam." He ordered, barely glancing at her before he started to drag the body back into the lounge.

Tying Bower to a chair, Michael struggled with the anger he was feeling at Fiona for putting herself in danger, and the anxiety of his best friend entering the house of the man who tried to kill him. He tightened the plasticuffs he was using to restrain Bower, causing the man to groan. Hearing his friends voices, Michael drew his gun from his waistband, holding it loosely in his hand the muzzle pointed at Bower's head.

Sam walked in to the house with Fiona at his side, finding his attacker secured to a chair, with a dazed look on his face. Sam took a seat, while they all waited for their prisoner to fully regain consciousness. They remained silent when Bower started to struggle against the restraints, until he became aware of his situation.

"Hey. Who are you people?" He demanded looking around wildly, then his eyes focussed on Sam. "_You!_"

"Yes Mr Bower." Fiona answered from Sam's side, her tone flat, all business. "You tried to kill Mr Axe, and as you can see he isn't happy with you."

"What do you want with me? I don't know anything." He was looking at the three of them, frantic with worry. He had known getting mixed up with the Russians was a mistake but the money had been so tempting. **BANG** **! **Suddenly he was yelling, as a white hot burning pain shot through his leg.

"I missed the artery, it's a flesh wound stop whining." Michael spoke the words callously. He lent in closer to the prisoner. "There are plenty of other places I can shoot you before you die." The look on his face was cold and merciless. Lifting his gun barrel away from Bower's thigh, Michael pressed the now hot muzzle of his gun against the man's collar bone.

Sam and Fiona managed to keep their expressions neutral through the whole thing. They were both staring at the hole Michael had made through the meaty part of prisoner's thigh and at the blood which was pouring from the wound then pooling on the light green carpet.

Sam looked up at Michael, reading the deadly intent on his face. If he didn't take control of the situation Michael was going to continue shooting holes in the man.

"Fi, Mike why don't you both check out the house for anything interesting... while I talk to Mr Bower. I'm sure he's going to be more talkative now. Isn't that right?" Sam finished talking with a harsh racking cough.

Bower nodded frantically.

"Good because otherwise.. I'm going to leave you alone with Mikey, and see what you tell him." Sam threatened.

Michael looked at Bower and then at Sam. "Are you sure? I think we should stay together."

"It's ok Mike, Curtis is going to behave." Sam reassured his friend.

With a final threatening glare at Bower, Michael reluctantly left the room.

Closing the door behind him, Michael turned to face Fiona. Before he could speak she pushed him flat against the wall

"What were you thinking?" She demanded angrily, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"I was thinking about keeping you both safe, and getting him to talk." Michael replied, his eyes boring into hers. "And I think my plan worked."

"What happened to, torture is an ineffective tool in an interrogation ?" She used his own words against him.

"Not this time." He replied coldly.

"And what happened to working as a _team_? You do remember what being part of a team means? For a start you're meant to tell your team mates your plan, before running off." He went to move, she pushed him back her hand remaining on his chest to keep him still.

"I can't waste time discussing every single move I make. Now let it go." He took hold of her wrist, removing it from his chest. "Now let's search this place, so we can leave." He pushed her away, and ran up the stairs.

Fiona watched him go, she wanted to follow him and have it out. Demand he explained why he was acting so out of character. Usually she was the one who acted on instinct, while he studied a situation, and planned every move. She bit her lip, she knew why he was doing it. He was scared of losing them, so to keep them safe he was acting impulsively and taking all the risk himself.

Going after him now would only lead to a fight, something they were doing a lot of recently. Once they had finished here she would try to talk to him again. With a sigh she turned towards the kitchen and started to search for anything Bower might have hidden.

()

Ten minutes later Sam came to the door, finding Fiona going through the kitchen cabinets. "Where's Mike?" He asked grimly.

"Upstairs. Has our friend been cooperative?" Fiona looked up from the cabinet she was checking.

"Very." Sam grinned. "Mike needs to hear this."

They turned as they heard footsteps on the stairs.

Michael came downstairs. "Nothing to find up there. Bower behaving himself?"

"You scared him into answering every question Mikey. There's something you should hear, before we go."

In the lounge, Bower sat looking very pale his body rocking back and forth slightly with the pain radiating from his leg. He gulped when the man who had shot him stood over him, cold blue eyes staring down.

"So what do you have for me?" Michael asked.

"W-when they hired me, it was a woman blond hair good looking." He stopped, as Michael drew his hand gun, flicking off the safety.

"Get to the part that'll interest me." Michael ordered.

"In the back of the car was a man, an older man brown.." He gulped "He had brown hair and I saw crutches. You know for wh.."

"I know what crutches are for." Michael snapped, turning towards Sam and Fiona. "You think this proves Larry's involvement?"

"How many brown haired older guys with a bad leg who want me and Fi dead do you know Mikey?" Sam replied dryly.

Michael crossed his arms over his chest, with his head down he paced the room. Larry had been working with Sasha all this time. Working with a woman who wanted him dead, what sort of game was his old mentor playing? Michael stopped his pacing, staring at Bower. This man couldn't give them any more information, he could however let the other side know Sam was alive and that they now knew for sure Larry was working against them.

**BANG!**

Sam and Fiona flinched as Bower's head was flung back, a neat hole between his eyes, his brains over the carpet and wall behind him.

Fiona stepped forward and yanked the gun from Michael's hand. "Do you remember what we were talking about out there. Teamwork Michael, letting your _team_ know what you're about to do."

"We couldn't leave him alive. You know that. He would talk. Look how easily he talked to us." Michael snapped, taking his gun back.

"Ok then, what are we going to do with him?" Fiona asked nodding towards the body.

Michael pointed to the gun in her waistband. "Is that the gun you used on the guy in Hialeah?"

Fiona got the gun out, turning it over in her hand. "It's one of my favourites Michael. I've had it a long time." She pouted.

"Wipe your prints off and leave it where it'll be easily found. I'll call the police from the car. They already think a drug war is brewing between the Russians and Columbians. This will look like the Russians retaliated against a hitter for the other side."

With a sigh Fiona did as Michael said, the gun was one of her favourites it had been with her for several years. As she dropped the gun down the side of the sofa she glanced over to where Michael was peering through the drawn curtains. As she turned away, her eyes locked with Sam's, she could read the worry in his face too. Michael had just killed an unarmed prisoner, and he didn't seem that bothered about it.

Noticing Sam and Fiona were ready to leave, Michael headed for the door. "Where next Sam?" He asked. "We need to visit his partner before the guy realizes we're on to him."

"Let's slow down a bit Mikey." Sam caught hold of Michael's arm before he could step out of the door.

Michael faced his friend. "What's up?"

"How about the way you've been acting today. I mean shooting an unarmed prisoner, that's not you brother." He spoke mildly.

"I got rid of a problem Sam." Came the flat toned reply.

"You executed someone." Fiona punched him hard on the arm.

"_You _wanted to come with me. _You _wouldn't listen when I said it was too dangerous." He answered his voice getting angrier with every word. "So please, tell me what I should have done?"

"Right that's enough from both of you." Sam stepped inbetween them, he glanced at his watch. "We're going for a drink, because I really need one and while I'm having a beer _we'll _make a plan and stick to it." He pushed them both out of the door as they neared the car he directed Fiona towards the driver's door. "How about we let Fi drive for a bit?"

()()

Larry had spent all night thinking about what to do with Sam's bug. He needed to flush the drunken fool out of whatever hole he was hiding in, and if doing so piled more pressure on Michael that just made things better. When he finally decided on a plan of action, he went to sleep with a smile on his face.

In the morning Larry made his way slowly down to the beach. Leaning against a railing he stared out to where the waves were lapping on the shore. Several families were already set up on the sand with deckchairs and sun loungers. After a few minutes he was joined by another man.

"You've been told the job?"

"No problem." Came the muttered reply.

Larry took his hand out of his pocket and palmed Sam's listening device. The other man took it off him.

"When?" Larry muttered.

"By lunchtime. A warrant will go out by two at the latest." The other man left.

With a smile on his face Larry made his way slowly back to his hotel, he had a couple of e mails to send off and then a nice day by the pool seemed like a relaxing way to spend his time while the fed's flushed Michael's little team out of their hidey hole.

It was going to be interesting to see what the kid would do with his friend being chased by the fed's. He could go in himself, and be set up for the murder of Ross Dawson and his wife and for stealing a disk from Dawson's safe deposit box. Or he could agree to work for Management to get his friend released.


	20. Chapter 20

**Out of the ashes.**

**A/N: Thank you Daisy Day and Amanda Hawthorn for reading through part of this chapter for me.  
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Chapter twenty,

Once he was back in his suite Larry sat down with his laptop, the first email went off to an old friend, a man he had known since his early days in the CIA. They had trained together and stayed friends throughout their long careers, even after his so called death. Over the years they had help each other out with various little problems. This time though was the big one, which would change everything. The email Larry sent was very simple.

_Today be ready._

The second email was to Robert Devereux, his old boss, the man who made Larry the man he was today. Who took a highly intelligent but slightly disturbed young man and encouraged his more lethal tendencies. Who taught him all the skills necessary to be a great spy and assassin. Larry owed Devereux a lot, the training he received had save his life on a number of occasions. This message too was very simple.

_The package will be ready for delivery tomorrow as promised. Just say where and when._

With his messages sent, Larry changed into some shorts, and headed up to the pool for a day of relaxation. If all went well tomorrow was going to be a very busy day.

()()()

Michael allowed Sam to direct him around to the passenger seat of the sedan car. He could hear his friend's wheezing breath, but kept his mouth shut knowing Sam wasn't in the mood to listen to anything he had to say. In the car he sat down and stared straight ahead, arms across his chest.

Fiona started the car and pulled away her finger's flexing on the steering wheel, Michael could feel the anger rolling off her in waves. He risked a look in her direction, and their eyes met for a brief second before she turned away to watch the road.

A frown creased his brow as he tried to work out what she wanted from him. After running his hands through his hair he dropped them onto his lap. Before moving one into the space between him and Fiona, a new anxiety was coming to the fore. She was going to leave him, he was sure of it, in the last few months he had done nothing but disappoint her. How much more would she take before walking away?

Risking another glance, he gazed at her profile as she drove towards South Beach, his hand inching closer to her thigh. He just wanted to touch her, gain a little reassurance that they could work things out.

"Fi." He breathed out her name.

Fiona turned her head slightly, trying to keep one eye on the road. He could read the disdain on her face.

"I know you think I overreacted." He began to explain.

"That was a lot more than overreacting Michael." She snapped back, remembering the look on his face when he had pulled the trigger, and then the contempt in his eyes when he pushed her away in the house.

He pursed his lips, uncertain how to answer the accusation, he turned to his best friend looking for support. "Sam. Bower nearly drowned you in the Miami river, he was too dangerous to leave alive."

Sam wasn't having any of it. "No Mike, Bower was so scared he would have done anything we asked him too."

"To take you down he had to be good at his job. Neither Sasha or Larry would hire boy scouts. He was dangerous." Michael argued.

"Whatever he was, he had been stunned, tied up and shot in the leg." Fiona replied harshly. "He wasn't a threat to anybody when you killed him."

As Michael opened his mouth, Sam interrupted. "This isn't the time for this. Let's find Bower's partner first."

Michael closed his mouth and sat back in his seat, his hand still reaching across to Fiona. As his fingertips brushed against her denim clad leg, she shifted in her seat causing his hand to slide off. Pulling his arm back he slouched down deep in thought. He had to find a way to make them understand, he was going to do whatever was necessary to keep them safe.

They travelled in silence over the MacArthur Causeway driving towards South Beach. Spotting a small cafe bar with a parking space outside Fiona pulled over. Taking an inside table they sat down Fiona waiting for Michael to choose his spot before sitting down as far away from him as she could.

Sam was tired, it was his first day doing anything more than laying on a sun lounger. He glanced at his watch, the two hours he had told Elsa he would be gone were nearly up. Taking a long appreciative sip from his bottle of beer, he regarded his friends.

Michael was leaning back in his moulded plastic chair, his long legs stretched out under the table, in one hand he held a glass of iced tea the other resting on the arm of the chair. He stared moodily out on to the street, watching the passing crowd. Even though he looked relaxed, Sam could see the way his friend's eyes flickered over every passer-by scanning them for weapons.

Fiona sat on the opposite side of the table, she had purposely put herself as far away from Michael as possible. Her elbows were resting on the table either side of a tomato juice, while her head rested against one hand the other stirred a celery stick around her glass. She appeared to be lost in thought, but every second or two she lifted her eyes to look at Michael.

He could imagine what was going through her mind, the same things that was going through his, Michael was changing. The mood changes and temper tantrums had been bad enough, but now the high levels of anxiety and paranoia caused by Larry messing with his head, was pushing their friend even further away.

After a second long calming sip of beer, Sam cleared his throat. Time to make a plan, and try to draw them all back into a team. He joined Fiona leaning forward with his elbows resting on the table.

"So Bower's partner is a guy called Luke Preston, he lives in South Beach in an apartment on the twenty third floor with a beach front view. The only way inside is through a key entry door lock, apparently from what Bower told me there are also cameras in the elevator and the stairs. So we can't get in unseen. I don't know for sure how sound proof the apartments are but it would be best if there was no shooting just in case we disturb the neighbours." He looked directly at Michael. "So we have to do this smart." He paused hoping one of the others would come up with something.

There was silence, Fiona and Michael purposely ignoring each other. Sam gave serious thought to bashing their heads together. He glanced down at his watch, before guiltily finishing the bottle and ordering a second.

"He isn't going to know any more than the other one?" Michael suddenly spoke up.

Fi and Sam looked at him worriedly. "Unlikely." Sam answered with a feeling of dread.

"But if we leave him alone, he'll find out his partner is dead and may contact Larry?" Michael added, not trusting himself to come straight out with his idea, instead he was trying to do what they both wanted and talking it through.

"True." Sam agreed.

"He's also the smarter of the two. Barry couldn't get hold of his bank account and he has more home security."

"Ok Mike, just get to the point please." Sam took another look at his watch, if Michael started breaking down all his ideas like this they would never get anything done.

"Why don't we set him up for the other guy's death. Get him over to the house, plant my gun on him and call the police." He made it sound so easy. "I mean he tried to kill you Sam, it's not like he's an innocent." Michael felt he needed to add.

"Ok getting him over to the house shouldn't be a problem I have Bower's cell phone. I'll text Preston to come over. But planting your gun, and getting him to stay in the house with a body. How are you going to do that without him seeing your face?" Sam answered.

Then with another glance at his watch. "Look I'm sorry about this but we need to do this as quick as possible. I promised Elsa I'd only be out for two hours. Which was up an hour ago."

"You want to go? Leave this to me and Fi?" Michael asked.

Sam looked from one to the other, the tension between the two of them seemed to be taking on a life of its own. Michael's features were carefully schooled to hide his emotions, even so a twitch of his lip betrayed his feelings. Fiona shot Sam a look which said very clearly 'don't you dare'.

"Er no I'll stay a while longer." Sam replied, clearing his throat. "I'll call Preston as soon as we have a way to get your gun in his hand."

()()

Larry had just put down the lunch time menu when his phone indicated he had received a message. Flicking open his phone he read the text and grinned.

_It's done._

Calling the waiter back he ordered a Mojito, in honour of Sam Axe. The ex-SEAL's arrogance was going to bring about Michael's downfall.

All he had to do now was wait for all the pieces to fall into line. As long as he had judged correctly, Michael would soon be ready to accept whatever help he was offered, and the two albatrosses that dragged the kid down would be gone.

With the warm Miami sun soothing the last remaining aches from his gunshot wounds, Larry waited for his lunch to arrive. It was just a shame he wouldn't be able to see Michael's face when he realized not only was he dealing with Management and Perovic, he was now running from the FBI as well.

()()

"The parking garage has a security guard at the exit." Fiona announced as she flung the car door open and sat down in the driver's seat.

She had just scouted the outside of Luke Preston's apartment building. "If I keep the guard busy, you could sneak in and grab Preston when he comes to get his car." She suggested.

"What do you think Sam?" Michael asked. Fiona wanted teamwork he would show her he was capable of being part of a team.

"Ok, you get Preston in the trunk and drive him over to Bower's we'll follow you." Sam answered.

Michael pulled out his handgun, and started screwing on a silencer.

"Er, Mike we need him alive." Sam reminded his friend worriedly.

"I know Sam." Came Michael's waspish reply.

"Good, just keep it mind." Sam added.

"Send the text." Michael snapped, drawing the attention of both of his friends, he looked from one to the other. "I'm fine, honestly. Let's get this done. Fi get the guards attention."

Fiona stared at Michael, as she slowly reached up to undo several buttons on her blouse exposing the edge of her pink lace bra. Smiling, she slipped out of the car knowing she had his full attention. Pausing for a moment she set off along the street, strutting towards the security guard, her hips swaying in a provocative manner.

Michael flinched when Sam smacked him on the back. "You'd best get moving yourself brother."

"Send the text and keep your eyes open." Michael was out of the car and walking behind Fiona, ready to slip passed the guard while his focus was on Fiona, and her barely decent top.

With the guard distracted Michael crept into the parking garage, and started the search for Preston's black Aston Martin DB9, finding the sports car Michael hid in the shadows and waited.

It wasn't a long wait, a tall skinny man in his thirties stepped out of the elevator. With long strides he reached the sports car and as he unlocked the doors Michael stepped out of the shadows. Launching himself forward, Michael didn't bother with a fight. He wrapped an arm tightly around Preston's neck, using his other arm to lock in the choke hold. Within thirty seconds he had Preston unconscious on the floor. Once he had his prisoner tied up, and in the trunk of the Aston Martin Michael started the engine and smiled when it roared to life with a loud growl.

Driving out of the garage he noticed Fiona still distracting the guard, as soon as he went passed she broke away with a final wave at the smitten guard she hurried back to Sam waiting in the sedan.

()

Michael reversed onto Bower's driveway making sure the trunk was nearest to the front door before opening the lid. Looking inside at Preston, who had his eyes wide open, and was trying to shout through the duct tape that covered his mouth.

Michael went to pull the struggling man out, when Sam appeared at his side. With one hard punch to Preston's jaw he was unconscious again.

"Sam?" Michael dragged the body to the front door and inside. "You ok?" He was worried about how pale Sam had gone.

"Fine." Sam wheezed. "Let's get this over with."

They dropped Preston down in front of Bower, and after cutting the bindings Michael wrapped Preston's hand round his gun and fired it in to the wall. The hired killer had the murder weapon close to his hand and gunshot residue on his hand and arm.

"That should do it." Michael slipped his shoulder under Sam's arm helping the older man out of the house. "We should go."

()

Hearing the shot Fiona held her phone up to her ear. "Hello, I want to report hearing gunshots at 1567 Bellavista Drive. My name. Oh, it's ..." She hung up just as Michael and Sam made it back to the car.

She stared with concern at Sam as he flopped down on the back seat of the Sedan. "We're going back to the hotel, no arguments." She put the car in drive just as the sound of police sirens could be heard in the distance.

They hadn't gone far when the shrill ring of Sam's cell phone broke the silence. "Hey sweetheart, I'm on my way back..." Sam answered the call, laying on the charm.

"No! You can't, a fax has come through, the FBI want to arrest you they've spread your details all over Miami." Elsa was panicking.

"What do you mean, is it just me or all of us?" Sam shot Michael a worried look, putting his phone on loud speaker.

"Just you and it doesn't say why. Just that you're armed and dangerous. What have you done Sammy?" She sounded close to tears.

"Now don't worry about it pumpkin, your Boy Toy will be back soon it's just a mistake I'll sort it out." He soothed, all the time wondering what had happened.

Michael turned in his seat, mouthing '_How?'_

"I have to call them Sam. I can't risk somebody else telling them it could cause all sorts of trouble for the hotel."

"It's ok you do whatever you have to pumpkin, and I'll get back to you as soon as I've got it all sorted out."

"Are you sure?" She sniffed.

"Of course, it's just a silly mix up. I'm going to sort it right now." He blew a kiss down the phone and ended the call with a sigh.

Closing his phone he turned to Michael. "This isn't good Mikey."

"What could the Feds have on you Sam?" Michael asked.

"Do you think it's Larry retaliating?" Fiona spoke without thinking.

"Larry doesn't know Sam is alive." Michael replied, he looked at Fi then Sam. "What did you do?" He demanded, turning on Fiona his eyes blazing.

"It was me Mike." Sam caught hold of Michael's arm. "I made a listening device, one Larry would recognize as mine, and told Fi to leave it in his room along with one of my shirts. I thought it would either slow him down, or make him concentrate on me."

"Oh you got his attention, damn it Sam you should know better than to go after Larry." He paused. "I'll go see him."

"NO." Sam and Fiona answered together.

"I've got a place Bricknell." Fiona announced. "It's only small but nobody else knows about it. We could go there, decide what to do." She began to speed up, the sooner they were in hiding the better.

Michael's hand went to where his gun should be, he had left it behind with Preston. "I need a gun." He commented, he felt vulnerable unarmed. His mind beginning to spin with the trouble they were in.

"Once we get to my place you can have your pick." Fiona promised, for now her anger at Michael was on hold. They were on the run from the FBI, her lips curved upwards thinking about the six bricks of C4 sitting in the building they were going to.

Pulling off the main roads she started weaving through the back streets. She had rented an empty shop a month ago planning on using it to store her stock of weapons waiting for buyers. It wouldn't be comfortable and it probably wouldn't be good for Sam's health but it would have to do.

She made a turn and came to a stop, two black SUVs with tinted windows blocked their path. She started to reverse to find the way blocked by more vehicles. For a moment they paused, then the doors of the SUVs opened and men wearing suits carrying automatic weapons surrounded them.

"Mike?" Sam asked, these are not FBI agents.

"We have no choice, I'll get out it's me they want." Michael answered, calmly. These were most likely General Perovic's men.

"Michael." Fiona grabbed hold of his wrist, her eyes full of tears. They were hopelessly outnumbered and out gunned.

He faced her, gently cupping her face in his hands. "It'll be fine." He lied softly, pressing a kiss to her lips. Breathing in her scent, trying to memorize the moment.

"Liar." She growled, wiping an errant tear away. "Let me come with you."

Michael turned to Sam. "Nice working with you."

"You to brother." Sam replied, catching hold of Fiona's arm as Michael got out of the car.

She yanked her arm away and tried to follow him, Sam dragged her back pulling her back against the seat. "Stay put. We can't help him if we're dead." Sam hissed in her ear.

They watched as Michael walked away from them, his hands held away from his body. The men in suits surrounded him, pulling his hands roughly behind his back handcuffing him before dragging him towards one of the cars.

"Hey guys want to tell me who you are?" Michael spoke cheerfully, as his hands were forced behind his back and handcuffed.

He heard a commotion behind him, turning he saw Fiona and Sam being pulled from the car both being slammed against the hood and handcuffed.

"Let them go!" He shouted beginning to struggle against the men holding his arms. "You don't need to..." Michael was forcibly dragged to another car, and thrown onto the back seat. He righted himself and found himself facing somebody he thought he would never see again.

"You!" He exclaimed, staring in amazement.


	21. Chapter 21

**Out of the ashes:**

Chapter twenty one

()()

Spending a few hours poolside in a fancy Miami hotel, for most people would be considered a relaxing way to while away an afternoon. For Larry it was an ideal way to work out who was in Robert Devereux's surveillance team. It took time, but eventually he had picked out three likely targets.

A middle aged woman whose suite was three doors down from his own. An even older man, who had come up to the reception desk as he had booked in, asking to change some Euros into Dollars. The last one was younger, fitter who spent most of her time swimming up and down the pool. Only to rest close to where he sat, whenever he had a phone call. These three were most likely part of the team sent to watch him.

Satisfied that for now he had learnt enough, Larry got up and made his way back to his suite. As he walked through the hotel, he used the large ceiling to floor windows to watch the reflection of the middle aged woman following him.

Back in his room, Larry began to prepare for the next stage. Covering the dining table with a thick cotton sheet, he collected his sniper rifle from the wardrobe. Almost with a reverence Larry placed the weapon on the table and began to dismantle it for cleaning. He handled the rifle carefully and with total concentration. Each piece was inspected, cleaned and then put aside for reassembly.

Just as he was putting the rifle back into it's case, Larry heard his cell phone signal an incoming text. With the weapon safely stored away ready for the next day, he opened the message.

_I have him._

Larry looked at the the three little words displayed on the cell phone's screen, a cruel smile slowly curving his lips. The kid probably thought all his problems were coming to an end.

()()

"_Son of a bitch!" _Fiona hissed furiously, her car door jerked open and a hand gripped her arm.

As she was dragged out of the vehicle, she threw a punch that caught her attacker on the nose. Giving him no time to recover she followed up immediately with a kick to his shin, before moving in closer to thrust her knee up in to his groin. He fell to the ground groaning in agony, while she ripped the automatic machine pistol from his other hand. The toe of her boot crashing in to his jaw finishing him off. She spun round ready to take on the rest of the men.

"Surrender. **NOW!**" The man giving the orders stood over Sam's body.

Fiona froze in place looking down at her friend laying curled up, holding his ribs as he coughed uncontrollably, a trickle of blood running down from his forehead. The light of battle died in her eyes, she was surrounded by armed men. Sam was on the ground, and Michael unaware of what was happening had already been pushed into a waiting car. Glaring defiantly at the man who had spoken, Fiona allowed the gun to fall on to the ground, before slowly raising her hands above her head.

She was thrown roughly against the hood of the car and held in place by a strong hand gripping the back of her neck. She could do nothing but watch, as Sam was hauled up on to his feet and joined her against the car while handcuffs were fastened around their wrists.

()

When he had been forced into the SUV Michael had expected to find himself facing General Perovic, or Management. Instead a man he hadn't seen in over six years stared back at him.

"You!" Michael exclaimed, staring in amazement at Donald Raines his old CIA handler.

"We have things to talk about." Raines spoke calmly, as if it had only been a few days since they had last seen each other.

Michael opened his mouth to speak, but paused as a wave of dizziness hit him. "What?" he slurred before falling back on the seat.

"Something to make the journey a bit more comfortable for us all." Raines smiled, and tapped his driver on the shoulder. "The office." He ordered.

()

Michael woke up, slumped forward in a chair his head resting on top of his arms which were folded on top of a large metal table. His old friends raging headache and mind numbing fatigue were back in full force. Probably made worse by whatever Raines had injected into his neck. Groaning he sat upright stretching his body, fingertips searching his neck for a slight raised area where a needle would have gone in to his skin.

Feeling a little bit more awake, Michael took in his surroundings. There wasn't much to see, no windows, no clock and apart from the table, and the chair he sat on there was no furniture either. Hearing the click of a lock he watched the door open and a man enter carrying two brown folders.

Michael gazed impassively at the newcomer, studying his appearance and drawing his own conclusions. This man was a field agent, Michael was sure of it. He looked like a regular guy with brown hair, blue eyes and a friendly expression. A closer look and you noticed the eyes were sharp, and under the expensive suit he had the muscular frame necessary to survive life as a covert operative.

"My name is Max." The stranger introduced himself dropping the folders down on the table between them. "I'm here to brief you on the assignment."

Michael offered up a smile of his own, full of charm except if you looked into his eyes which were icy cold. "I never agreed to any assignment. So before we start, I'd like to know where my friends are and that they're safe."

"They're both being well looked after." Max informed him. "However, Mr Axe does seem to have a problem with the FBI which we are trying to rectify, and Ms Glenanne has issues with her immigration status. Both tricky situations."

"Ok. You have my attention." Michael knew a threat when he heard one however pleasantly it was worded.

"This is our target." Max placed a photo on the table. Michael stared at it, his hand going across the table to pick it up.

"You're going after Management?" Michael asked.

"We know him as Robert Devereux ex CIA, retired in nineteen eighty five and disappeared shortly afterwards."

"Can I be in on the interrogation. I need to know..." Michael was bolt upright he was desperate for answers.

Max shook his head. "As soon as he is in custody he'll be airlifted out to Guantanamo." He opened the top page of the second folder. Michael saw it was full of photos of himself with Larry at the Epic hotel. "We know Devereux wants a meeting with you. All you have to do is go to that meeting and we'll take it from there."

"That's all?" Michael replied.

"Ideally we want you to meet Devereux somewhere private, but if that isn't possible you'll have to put a tracker on him so we can pick him up later. From what Raines says it shouldn't be hard for a man of your skills." Max smirked.

"You have a high estimation of my abilities." Michael replied dryly.

Max slapped him on the back. "Oh I've read all the files on you, Michael Westen the super spy." He laughed as he dropped Michael's cell phone onto the table. "You want to give your old partner Larry Sizemore a call now and set up the meeting?"

With a sigh, Michael picked up his phone and dialled the number. He didn't have long to wait.

"Hey kid I've been expecting your call." Larry sounded especially happy.

"The feds Larry, really?" Michael snarled, ignoring the look Max sent him.

"Oh he asked for it Michael. The old drunk shouldn't rattle the tiger's cage if he doesn't want to get bit." Larry brushed the accusation aside.

Michael took a deep breath. "I've thought about what you said. I'm ready to make a deal."

"Ok kid I'll make a call." Larry offered. "You'll hear back soon."

"Satisfied." Michael asked, as Max held out his hand for a return of the phone.

"Delighted. Let's go get you something for that headache you're trying to hide."

Michael wasn't that surprised to find the CIA doctor had a copy of his medical records including those from the VA hospital he attended under a false name. While he submitted to a medical exam, and dutifully took the handful of pills the doctor gave him. Max was called away.

When he came back Max looked at the doctor. "He fit to go?"

With a nod from the doctor, Michael followed Max outside.

"We have a little side mission. To check out an airstrip over in the national park." Max informed him as they walked along.

"Oh, and you'll need this." He added, handing Michael a Sig Sauer handgun, after checking the gun was loaded Michael slipped it into the waistband of his pants.

Glancing at his watch, Michael asked. "Have we got time for this? I could get a call at any time to.."

"We make time." Max cut him off, then grinned. "You remember how these things go don't you?"

()

Lying in wet grass keeping an eye out for spiders, snakes and alligators was not high on the list of things Michael enjoyed doing as a spy. They had been there for an hour watching what should be an abandoned airstrip, being cleared and prepared for use.

"Can we go now?" Michael asked after Max had taken photographs of all the work taking place.

"Stop being a girl Michael. Before we go I'd like to know what's in those boxes they've just moved outside the hangar."

With a snort of disgust Michael snatched the camera and got to his feet. "What are you doing?" Max asked.

"Getting a look in those boxes so we can get going." Michael grumbled.

Max watched Michael disappear from sight, then reappear just long enough to climb over a chain link fence and disappear back into the undergrowth on the other side.

"Crazy. They warned me he was crazy." Max shook his head as he watched Michael peeking inside the boxes. Five minutes later he was back, breathing a little bit heavier, with a rip in his shirt sleeve.

"They have a couple of RPGs, and the grenades to go with them. The writing on the boxes is in Russian. Is this General Perovic's way into Miami?" He handed Max the camera.

"It might be, chatter amongst the Russian gangs say the big bad boss is due into tomorrow." Max told him. "Let's get back to the office. You're beginning to look like you need your beauty sleep."

()()

_The package is ready for collection tomorrow._

With the message sent, Larry decided to go out for a walk. He went down in the elevator and passed a young man leaning idly against the wall outside the hotel. Crossing over the street he noticed that the young man followed on one side of the street while the elderly man he had picked out at the pool strolled along behind him. He ambled along enjoying the night air, until he reached a dark narrow alleyway between two closed stores.

The older man stopped at the entrance, and cautiously peered long the path unable to see his quarry amongst the dumpsters and piled up rubbish. Hesitating for a moment he waited for the younger man to catch up.

The two men moved along opposite walls, knowing it was a likely a trap. The younger man died as Larry silently appeared behind him, slitting his throat from ear to ear. Before the older man had time to bring his gun up Larry had altered his hold on the knife and sent it flying from his hand. The knife ended up buried hilt deep in the man's chest.

With both bodies now in one of the dumpsters and hidden by bags of rubbish. Larry moved on, he had a meeting to get to.

Reaching a dark run down bar far from the tourist places on the strip, Larry took a table at the back and waited. He didn't have to wait long before he was joined by Raines.

"Why the meeting?" Larry asked angrily.

"I wanted to be sure you're going to keep up your end of the bargain. I've known you forty years Larry, and I know not to trust you." Raines replied nervously.

"It's easy Raines, I don't want the power I want the contacts. I want to know that there is always going to be somebody I can rely on to get me out of any little difficulty I find myself in. Lend me money or a place to stay. And once you hand me my own copy of that NOC list I'll have what I want, and you can play your little power games."

"And Westen?"

"The kid needs sometime to get back into the game. He's gone soft, I'll be coming back for him once you've toughened him up a bit."

Raines nodded and Larry got to his feet. "This is the last time you call me out to babysit you. I'll be in touch tomorrow." He lent over the table locking eyes with his partner. "Do not let me down." Then he was gone.

Raines shut his eyes. _God he had forgotten how scary Larry was face to face._

()()

"Sorry, I know it's not much, but it should only be for one night." Max showed Michael into a small windowless room that had been made up with a folding cot in one corner.

"I've slept on worse." Michael commented. It wasn't particularly late but he was worn out, running his hands through his hair he sat down on the cot and slipped his shoes off before collapsing down. He fell asleep almost immediately his eyes shut, bone weary from the days activities.

"_**Boy! Boy! Get out here now."**_ Michael's body twitched, his legs kicking out as his fathers voice invaded his dream. **_"Useless, dumbass kid. How many times have I told you, you're nothing but a loser. Only thing you're good for is taking a damn beating. Don't you ever learn? What did I do to end up with piece of scum like you?" _**Michael started to mumble in his sleep, Frank Westen had begun to invade his dreams on a regular basis. Playing on his doubts and fears.

"_**Time to stop taking the beatings kid, it's time you started dishing them out. You've got it in you, I've seen it, you're good at it too. The best I've ever seen." **_Larry's smarmy voice took over silencing Frank's taunts. Michael spent a restless night tossing and turning, several times crying out in his sleep, denying his likeness to either of his demons.

()()

Stealing a master key card on his way back from his evening stroll, Larry made his way towards the suite three doors further along the corridor to his own. The surveillance team would start to worry when their team mates didn't turn up and he couldn't have that.

Letting himself into the suite he came across the younger woman from the swimming pool combing her hair in a mirror. She died without uttering a word, a knife in her throat. Lowering her body quietly to the floor, Larry continued further into the suite. The middle aged woman was reaching for a gun when she died with a bullet to the brain from a silenced handgun.

The woman's body fell forward to the floor with a thud. "Caroline?" A man stepped into the room from the balcony, a gun in his hand, before he could get off a shot Larry had shot him twice in the chest.

Staring at all the death and destruction, Larry couldn't help but grin. '_Gosh I'm getting better with age. Three down, not one got off a shot. That's five in one night. Geez the old man must be filling his ranks with amatuers.' _

Humming a little tune he dumped the bodies in the bath tub, and then searched the room. Taking the phones, weapons and anything that might hold information. He was going to be gone by the morning, the bodies shouldn't be found until the cleaning staff went in. By then he would be in another hotel under a different name.

()()

Michael walked into the kitchen, his clothes dirty and rumpled from crawling around outside an airstrip and being slept in. His hair hung stuck up at odd angles testifying to his bad nights sleep.

"You look terrible." Max commented. Studying his new partner's haggard features. "I could hear you yelling down the corridor."

"Sorry." Michael mumbled searching for any yoghurt in the fridge, before sitting down at the breakfast table. When he sat down he stared with distaste at the little cup of pills Max placed in front of him.

"Doctors orders Michael." Max commented, keeping an eye on his charge to make sure he took the medication.

Just after they had finished breakfast he got the phone call. The raspy cold voice was direct. "Cape Florida lighthouse in an hour."

Michael studied the map Max laid out on the table. "Well you wanted an open space. But I can't see how you're going to get in close enough to take him down. He'll have armed bodyguards with him, so I can't grab him on my own."

"It's ok you plant the tracker, and we'll follow him when he leaves." Max answered.

Michael drove out to the Cape Florida lighthouse on Biscayne Bay alone, arriving at the right spot he got out of his car and waited. The sound of a helicopter coming in made him look up shielding his eyes with one hand. He watched as it circled the area several times before finally coming into land.

Walking forward with his hands held well clear of his body Michael waited for the rotor blades to stop turning. Two heavily armed men jumped out and after they searched him they took up defensive positions. Management sat inside the helicopter, dark glasses hiding his eyes the same cold humourless expression on his face.

"Michael? So you've come to your senses?" He smirked.

"I've not been given much choice." Michael replied bitterly, staying outside the helicopter.

"No you've not, have you son." He chuckled it was an unpleasant sound.

The two guards toppled to the ground, moments before the sound of the shots reached them. Michael reacted ducking down as another shot hit the side of the helicopter. A fourth shot hit Management, his white shirt turning red in an instant, his body slumped forward. The pilot started up the engine as Michael threw himself clear. The helicopter rose up and Management's body fell lifelessly to the ground.

"What the hell!" Michael had dropped to his knees hoping the old man wasn't dead. He had questions that only he could answer.

He looked up to see Max and Raines were coming towards him, getting to his feet he moved to meet them.

"It wasn't my doing Michael calm down." Raines told him putting his hands out.

Michael wasn't listening they had used him to set Management up. How could he have not have seen it, nobody wanted Devereux alive. Lashing out he caught the older man in the stomach with a tightly curled fist, doubling him over. Michael continued the attack bringing his elbow up to smash it into Raine's back, but he was thwarted by Max.

Catching hold of Michael's arm Max stepped behind him, and twisted the arm up his back. "An order came from higher up the food chain. Devereux was not to be taken alive." Raines spluttered trying to regain his composure.

"Take him over to his girlfriend's." Raines ordered. "Report tomorrow, ten a.m for a debrief."

"What about Perovic? He's coming in today!" Michael dug his heels in, ignoring the pain being inflicted on his arm.

"Perovic isn't your problem. Go home Michael." Raines ordered.


	22. Chapter 22

**Out of the ashes.**

.**  
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Chapter twenty two,

()()()

Sam Axe stared dubiously at the two men in full combat gear who faced him. "I'm free to go?" He questioned, rubbing his wrists which had just been freed from handcuffs.

The taller of the two men reached over, opening the door to the SUV they had been travelling in for the last hour. Peering outside, Sam saw he was next to a wide expanse of sand.

"Where are Mike and Fi?" He asked still not moving from his seat.

"Exit the vehicle Mr Axe." Came the flat emotionless response to his question.

"Now!" The second man ordered, racking a cartridge into his shotgun as a warning.

"Well then." Sam eased himself out. "Thanks for the ride fellas." The car door slammed shut behind him, and the vehicle drove slowly away.

Straightening himself up, Sam squinted as he got used to the natural light, and took in his surroundings. He wasn't impressed, he was standing on a long deserted stretch of beach. Ahead of him was the Ocean, the sun just peeking up over the horizon. Turning to look behind him was what looked like a forest, a very big forest. He had no idea where he was, and there was nobody about to ask.

He watched a large passenger aircraft fly overhead, guessing that meant he wasn't too far from Miami. Possibly near Fort Lauderdale International Airport. That bit of knowledge didn't really help though, if he couldn't find somebody to get him back to the city.

Reaching for his phone, he cursed when he remembered it had never been returned. If he had been released it was possible Fiona was free as well. But how to get hold of her? With another look at his surroundings Sam picked a direction, and started walking.

He had been trudging along for what felt like hours before he started to see signs of civilization. The trees were thinning out, and he saw a few large houses in the distance, then a pavement replaced the sand. With firm ground under his feet, Sam began to make better time. A couple of street signs, told him he was in North Miami, and then the rattle of a cafe shutter going up told him he had finally left the wilderness behind.

"Hey! Morning." He put on his best smile.

"Sorry we're not open yet." The waitress was young, in her twenties. She smiled apologetically, and continued to put out the stacked up tables and chairs.

Sam started to help her. "Oh that's ok. But er, well my car broke down, and I left my phone at home. So I wondered, do you have a phone I could use?" He upped the level of his smile, and added what he had been told were his puppy dog eyes.

The waitress stopped working, and took in his appearance. "How about you sit down and I'll get you a breakfast, then you can call a friend to come get you."

"You're a lifesaver sweetheart." Sam beamed, _even after a night locked in a cell he still had it._ Sam surprised even himself at times.

As Sam ate his bacon sandwich, and sipped on his coffee he tried to decide on who to call. Elsa would definitely come, and collect him but she would also require an explanation which he didn't have the time to give. He really liked Elsa, it was a new relationship, and their reunion needed to be something special.

Fiona if she had been released probably didn't have a phone either, and there was no telling what had happened to Mikey. Sam finished his sandwich and made his decision on who to call.

"Hey Barry, it's Sam, Sam Axe." Sam greeted the money launderer, when he answered his call.

"Sam do you know what the time is? Seven _in the AM_. I only went to bed an hour ago." Barry whined.

"Hey listen, I'm in north Hollywood and I need picking up."

"Really dude? Call someone else."

"Barry I need help. Get your spiky haired head off the pillow, and get out here. Mike, and Fi are MIA."

Sam listened to Barry sigh and then the rustle of sheets. "Fine, but this is going to cost you Sam."

Sam winced as he heard the phone slam down. He had help coming, it was a start. An hour later he was beginning to worry, when there was still no sign of Barry.

"You want to call your friend again? In case he got lost." Marion the waitress asked.

"I'll give him a little bit longer." Sam answered, sitting back in the plastic chair.

Finally Sam spied Barry ambling along the pavement, using every reflective surface to check his hair, and clothing.

"Two hours Barry! What were you doing?" Sam complained.

"Hey! I have a certain image. What would an investor think if they saw me sneaking about in the early hours of the morning looking a mess?"

"Maybe you were rushing to help a friend, and hey it's nearly nine some people are actually in work by now."

Barry sat down. "Two of whatever Mister Sunshine here is drinking sweetheart." He told the waitress, then turned back to Sam. "If you keep up this ungrateful attitude I won't tell you about the chemical plant in Talahassee I dug up."

"Chemical plant?" Sam lent across the table.

"The Russians have a very, _very _profitable business if you get my meaning."

"Something the DEA might be interested in?" Sam inquired.

Barry gave a slow nod of his head, and sipped at his coffee. "Now _I_ need some breakfast and then we'll go find Fi and Mike."

()

Fiona glared at the two men facing her, she knew deep down she had made things worse for herself. Attacking her guards at every opportunity, and two escape attempts had not endeared her to them. The car stopped, and the door opened, she was outside her apartment block.

"Get out." The order was made by the guard who unlocked her handcuffs.

She got out of the car, flinching when the keys to her apartment landed at her feet. "Your boyfriend should be here soon. Stay put." The car door slammed shut, and the SUV drove away.

Fiona watched until the vehicle was out of sight, and then retrieved her keys. Michael was coming home soon, the government types had obviously got whatever it was they wanted from him.

Letting herself inside she came to an abrupt stop, the place had been trashed. Somebody had been inside, and had wanted to make sure she knew about it.

The lounge was totally wrecked, the sofa and chairs had been destroyed the upholstery sliced with knives and the stuffing pulled out. Ornaments were broken and scattered over the floor. Bending down she picked up the welcome to Miami snow globe that Michael had bought her years ago. It was one of a few things that had survived.

Stepping into her bedroom, or at least it looked vaguely like her bedroom. Everything was a big mess just like the lounge. Clothes were all over the floor, drawers pulled out, and up ended. A mirror had been smashed the shards spread all over the room.

A thought came into head, sending her rushing into the kitchen, pushing aside the wreckage in the room she flung open the door to the storage cupboard. Ignoring the mess on the floor she sat down heavily, and pulled out a large cardboard box.

Ripping the tape off the lid, she checked the contents, inside were her most treasured possessions. Family photo's, a lace shawl that belonged to her grandmother, her father's last diary, Claire's favourite sweater still stained with cranberry juice. She ran her hands over each and every item, pulling out an old green woollen scarf. The only thing Michael McBride had left in their apartment in Dublin when he disappeared. Rubbing the soft wool against her cheek she felt her heart rate begin to slow. Everything else could be replaced as long as she had the contents of this box.

The click of the front door opening caught her attention. "Michael!" She called out getting to her feet.

There was no reply, pausing Fiona reached back into the kitchen for a carving knife.

"Michael?" She hissed.

The door to the hall was still shut, then a scraping noise caught her attention. "Michael?" She tried again.

Taking a deep breath she reached the door, and flung it open ready to attack. She never saw who was there, as she was hit in the face by pepper spray, followed up with the handle of a gun striking her temple.

Larry dropped the can of pepper spray into his jacket pocket, staring down at the crumpled body at his feet. He brought his handgun round aiming at Fiona's forehead, killing Michael's little girlfriend now would only stir the kid up.

Besides Fiona Glenanne was the price General Perovic required to drop his vendetta against Michael. Putting his gun away Larry reached down, grabbing hold of one of Fiona's arms he dragged her body up over one of his shoulders.

()

"We should be going out with the others to arrest Perovic." Michael was still trying to convince Max to drive towards the abandoned airstrip they had scouted the day before, rather than Fiona's apartment.

"If you want back in, you're going to have to learn how to follow orders Michael. You were told Perovic wasn't your problem, so forget him and enjoy a pleasant afternoon with your girlfriend." Max was trying to remain patient, he kept reminding himself Raines wanted him to work with Westen, help assimilate him back into the company.

"Ok the airstrip is out of bounds. How about checking out Sasha Perovic's villa in case the General comes in some other way." Michael persisted.

With a resigned sigh Max pulled over to the side of the road. "You're not going to let this go are you?"

Michael shook his head.

"So when I leave you at Fiona's, what are the chances you'll stay there?"

"Zero." Michael admitted.

"Great." Max dropped his head down. Then with a resigned sigh. "Ok where are we going?"

"Star Island." Michael grinned.

()

It was after ten am by the time Barry and Sam arrived at Fiona's apartment. All the time Barry had been driving, Sam had been calling Michael's phone but it kept going to voice mail. Leaving the car, Sam rushed ahead pressing the intercom button.

"Damn it." Sam looked at the key pad frustration plain on his face. He had a bad feeling about this, Fiona had done nothing but cause trouble for the men guarding them. Maybe they had taken it out on her, when she was no longer of any value.

"Here. Get out of the way." Barry pushed Sam out of the way and brought out a set of screw drivers. Sam watched in amazement as Barry opened the key pad, and with the fascia off he joined up a few wires and soon had the door open.

He looked up at Sam. "What? You thought I spend all my time checking the money markets. You need money to make money Sam."

Once inside the building they went up to Fiona's apartment. The door was unlocked and the place was a mess. They searched through the rooms becoming more, and more concerned by the minute.

"Try Mike again." Sam ordered. He had noticed Fiona's memory box, the lid on the floor, she had been here at some point. The box was out but undamaged.

They were both surprised when Michael answered the call. "We're at Fi's brother, it's been smashed up. Where are you?" Sam didn't wait for his friend to speak.

"We're on Star Island looking at Perovic's compound, get over here as quick as possible." Michael replied before ending the call. Pressing the phone against his forehead cursing himself for not answering Barry's calls earlier.

()

Fiona woke up, her eyes felt like they were on fire, looking through a watery haze she could tell she was no longer at home. She appeared to be in an expensively decorated room, with large windows letting in a lot of natural light. She was tied to a chair, barely able to move. Glancing down, she became even more worried, the chair was stood on a large piece of plastic sheeting. It was then she spotted a metal trolley at her side, just out of reach. The top was laid out with a variety of vicious looking medical instruments.

"The girl, as promised, the one who killed your daughter. You see nothing has really changed. Only that I can offer you a lot more for your cooperation." Fiona's head jerked up at the stranger's voice coming from the room next door.

"You guarantee my guns will come in safely. Women and drugs too?" This second speaker had a heavy accent, she guessed it was General Perovic.

The next words confirmed her thoughts. "I want to make a deal General, I want to show you how much value I put on our future friendship."

"Our Latin friends?"

"I can guarantee their training camps, and farms will be safe from discovery. Their products will enter Miami port unmolested. All I require is the intelligence on their competitors and an agreement that when necessary, I can have use of your resources."

The General laughed it was not a pretty sound. "Troops, intelligence, and control over the gas pipeline into Europe. You get a lot from this alliance yes? Your own private army."

"You, and your Latin friends get unrestricted access to Miami, plus my organizations assistance in eradicating your competition I think it is an equal partnership." The man pressed.

"Very well. You have kept up your side of the deal. I will speak to our Latin comrades later. This will be profitable for us all."

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation, followed by a mumbled conversation she couldn't make out, and then came the crackle of gunfire. Fiona began to smile, Michael was coming for her, she was sure of it.

()

Max drove onto Star Island flashing his ID badge to the security guards. Driving slowly around the Island until they spotted the address Michael had taken from the house cleaners office. Finding a position where they could watch undisturbed, Max held up his binoculars, to study the heavily guarded gates and grounds.

He paused at one point, and then handed the binoculars to Michael. "Is that Dobrubin Perovic?" He asked.

Michael took a look, and then studied the other rooms. "It's him. Somebody else is in there with him I can't make out who they are, and." He paused licking his lips. "I think he has Fi tied up in another room." He kept the binoculars up to his eyes, she was awake, tied up but unharmed.

Max reached for his cell phone. "Ok. We'll keep the compound under surveillance until an extraction team can get here." He started to explain, stopping his speech when he realized Michael wasn't listening to him. Instead he was running his fingers through his hair and straightening his jacket and tie.

"What are you doing?" He asked worriedly.

"We have to go in now. Fiona is in there." Michael was checking his gun, and searching the glove compartment for spare clips of ammunition.

"Not without back up." Max stated.

Michael pointed to where a silver BMW had pulled up behind them. "Back up is here. How's your Russian?"

"This is Miami Michael, I deal with Latin America.." Max was now trying to keep an eye on what Michael was doing and watch as Sam Axe, and a smaller, spiky haired man got into the back seat of his car.

"Ok, just try to look Russian, and keep your mouth shut." Michael offered as advice. "We need to go now."

"We're just going in? No back up?" Max couldn't believe the way Michael wanted to handle the matter.

"Welcome to my world." Michael grinned.

"Er Mike." Barry spoke up. "This isn't my world, so I'll just wait here if it's ok with you." He slid out of the car going back to his own vehicle.

"You want to wait with him Max, cos I'm going in now with or without you." Michael spoke seriously.

Max thought for a moment then nodded. "Ok, there's enough probable cause. Let's do this." He drove up to the gates.

Stopping when ordered Max listened to the rapid chatter between Michael, and the men on the gate. Then when it was obvious they weren't getting in Michael opened fire without warning, killing the two men guarding the gate. As more men came running up, Max pressed his foot down hard on the accelerator.

"Drive through them!" Michael ordered as he, and Sam continued to shoot.

After smashing through the gates, Michael, Max and Sam left the car taking cover behind the low brick walls which marked the driveway. More men were pouring out of the house, heavily armed and for the most part wearing body armour.

With bullets whistling around their ears along with bits of bullet shattered masonry Max turned to Michael. "If this is how you gain entry to an enemy stronghold, how have you managed to survive this long?" He demanded, keeping his head down, he fired blind over the top of the wall.

Sam emptied what he had left in his hand gun towards the Russians who were trying to pin them down. "He eats an awful lot of yoghurt." He answered the question as he pushed in another clip of ammunition that Michael threw at him.

()

Inside the house, Raines and Perovic had moved into the hallway for a better look at what was happening. While General Perovic was ordering the men outside to deal with the invasion. Raines was peering out of the window, biting his lip when he spotted one of his own men with Westen and Axe.

Larry's 'kid' was going to ruin everything, everything he had been working towards. Drawing his gun Raines sighted on Michael's head, but he didn't fire. Killing Michael Westen would only be the beginning of his problems when Larry found out what had happened.

Raines knew he had only one chance now to salvage something from what was rapidly becoming a rout outside. Somehow the three intruders were pushing the Russians back. Raines watched as Sam Axe threw a grenade into an open garage. The loud explosion that followed masked the sound of Raines turning his gun on Perovic.

Looking down at the dead body of the General, Raines saw the gas pipeline, and the allies in both Russian and Columbian criminal families were gone. But he still had the NOC list and Devereux's contacts. Pulling out his cell phone Raines called in his strike force.

"This is Raines I'm on Star Island checking a lead, I have Perovic pinned down." He spoke rapidly, watching Max, Westen and Axe gain ground bit by bit on the Russians.

All he had to do now was stay out of sight until all Perovic's men were subdued. Then he could make a grand appearance, and take responsibility for the raid, and all the glory for ridding the world of an international criminal.

Michael, Sam, and Max were all armed with weapons they had taken from the men they had killed or wounded. Even so they were out numbered, and with the shock of their sudden attack wearing off the Russians had dug in, and were keeping the invaders from entering the Villa.

That was up to the arrival of a helicopter carrying a CIA Tactical Squad. With re-enforcements on the ground, the Russian gunmen soon gave up. Vehicles were pouring onto the estate, and for a few minutes chaos seemed to reign. Then Director Raines appeared out of nowhere taking command.

Michael, and Sam left Max to clear the situation with Raines. While they both rushed into the Villa. Michael leaving Sam behind as he ran into the room where Fiona was being held.

He crashed through the door, to discover she had already been cut free. He caught hold of her in his arms, crushing her against his chest. They stayed wrapped in each others arms, until Fiona lifted her face to gaze up at him. She lifted one hand to his cheek, a finger tracing the line of a single tear running down his face.

"Let's leave here." She told him.

He nodded, letting her go just enough so they could walk side by side out of the Villa.


	23. Chapter 23

**Out of the ashes:**

**A/N: Thank you to the wonderful Amanda Hawthorn, and Daisy Day for reading through parts of this chapter for me.  
><strong>

Chapter twenty three,

()

They left the villa, Michael clasping Fiona tightly to his side, an arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders. Twice now she had been taken from him, it wasn't happening a third time. Raines had more or less promised him that Sam, and Fiona would be kept safe if he set up Management. Instead his old handler had released his friends, leaving Fiona vulnerable to Perovic. If he saw Raines he was going to let him know exactly how he felt.

Sam led the way out, clearing a path through the agents who were busy removing every computer, filing cabinet, and security gadget they could find. Outside they faced even more people. Tactical squads were securing the scene, while others were guarding the prisoners. The injured were being loaded onto ambulances.

"Barry's out on the street, as long as all the shooting, and government agents haven't frightened him off." Sam commented, as they neared the smashed gates.

"**Michael**!" The shout, made all three turn around.

Fiona winced as Michael's body stiffen, the tension tightening the muscles in his arm as it lay across her shoulders. Placing a hand on his chest, she looked up at him.

"Hey." She tried to gain his attention, but he was completely focussed on the man coming towards them.

Placing a kiss on the top of her head, he drew her even tighter against his side. All the while his eyes were flickering over the scene, before returning to the brown haired man approaching at a jog.

"Max." Michael spoke to the man, his expression was guarded.

"Michael, and you must be Ms Glenanne?" Max held his hand to Fiona, who looked from the stranger to Michael.

"Call me Fiona." She shook his hand, trying to hide her natural dislike of anyone working for the government.

"I'm going to take Fi home." Michael looked about. "I thought I saw Raines? Where is he?"

"Showed up for five minutes, and then headed back to the office, and I'm sorry but that's where we have to go too." He at least tried to look like he was apologizing, Fiona thought.

"I want to take Fiona home first, make sure she's safe." Michael started to turn away, until Max stopped him.

"You know how it goes Westen. We entered a private property on very shaky grounds, and it turns out the owner is a Bolivian Diplomat. So Raines wants to debrief now. He's making sure he stays ahead of the fallout he's going to get, because _you insisted _we breach the place without authority." He made the request sound reasonable, but Michael heard the warning in the words. If he didn't do as he was told Raines was going to place the whole blame on a burnt ex spy breaking into a house to save his gun dealing girlfriend.

"Fi." Michael paused, she felt him draw away slightly. "I have to.." He didn't finish the words but his look made it plain.

She moved in front of him, and planted a kiss on his lips before slipping out of his arms. "It's ok, Sam can take me home, and I'll see you later." She replied, turning her head away from him.

()()

Raines jumped out of the helicopter as soon as it touched down on the landing platform. With his two senior advisers following in his wake, he ran to the car waiting to take him to his temporary office.

"Follow behind." He ordered his men, shutting the car door on them. Then turning to his driver. "To the field office." Closing the privacy glass he got out his phone and dialled Larry Sizemore's number.

"Westen, turned up at the General's. I only just managed to salvage the situation, Perovic is dead." Raines snapped angrily, looking down he noticed his hand was shaking.

"He always was unpredictable." Larry answered not at all concerned with what had happened. Fiona couldn't have seen him before the mace had blinded her, his hands were clean.

"Is that all you have to say? If I had been seen by either Westen or Max..."

"If Michael had seen you, he would have killed you on the spot." Larry replied. "Now, why are you calling me?"

"I was going to use Perovic's men, and the Columbians to take command over Devereux's organization. I need you to help me." Raines demanded.

"Use Michael." Came Larry's blunt reply. "Send out warnings to all the names left on the list. If they refuse to accept your offer. Send Michael after them, tell him you're moping up the stragglers, and you want to offer him the chance to work on clearing his name. After he's killed a few, the rest will fall into line."

Sitting back in the leather upholstery of the limousine Raines felt a weight lift off his shoulders. "Thank you."

"I don't want your thanks Raines, I want Michael back to his old self as quick as possible. I also want you to keep him so busy he has no time for his friends."

The call ended abruptly, clearing his call log Raines put his phone away, and poured himself a bourbon from the mini bar.

()

Sam stood next to Fiona, as Michael walked away already deep in conversation with Max. "You ok?" He asked.

"Take me home Sam." She spoke dully, not really answering his question. Her eyes fixed on where Michael was getting into a car, not even bothering to look back to where they stood.

The drive back to Fiona's apartment was taken in silence, Barry taking his cue from Sam's troubled expression kept his mouth shut. Pulling into an empty parking space next to Fiona's car, Barry turned to to where she sat, slumped on the back seat.

"Look I'd love to hang around with you both all day, but I have a business lunch at twelve, and I need to get changed, the smell of gun smoke does not go down well at the Setai hotel."

"It's ok, thanks Barry." Fiona gave him a tired smile, before climbing out.

After watching Barry drive away, Sam and Fiona walked slowly towards the building. She raised an eyebrow when she saw the state of the entry system, examining the rewiring on the device which was hanging off the wall.

"We were in a hurry, I'm sure the maintenance charges for this place cover vandalism." Sam said when he saw her look.

"Never mind Sam." She was already at the elevator.

Sam was becoming worried about her mood, and remembered the state of her home. "Fi, why don't you, and Mike move back into the loft. I mean most of your stuff …." He faded off not sure what to say.

"Most of my stuff has been ruined, and the place is not fit to stay in." She finished the sentence for him.

With a sigh, she thought about it, and then nodded. "What about you? Where will you go?"

"I'm hoping Elsa will me forgive me." He smiled back her. "Let's rescue what you need for now, and then we'll clear up the rest over the next few days once you and Mike have had a rest."

Entering her wrecked home she gazed around desolately, she had never felt so beaten down. Ever since Tyler Brennan had died at the hands of Larry their lives seemed to have been trapped on a rollercoaster. And now it appeared the CIA were inviting Michael back into their ranks, and he was all to eager to accept.

"If you put that in my car, and I'll get a suitcase packed." She offered Sam a half hearted smile, pointing to her memory box.

()

On the way to the loft, Sam insisted they stopped to pick up some groceries, and a couple of pre- pay cell phones. "The food left in the fridge will be rotten by now." He explained. "And we need to let Mike know where you are, I don't know if he could take you disappearing again."

"He didn't put up much of an argument before going off with that Agent, what was his name? Max?" She replied stiffly, bringing the car to a halt next to the metal staircase that led up to the loft.

"Well, let's get you settled back in, and then I can go beg Elsa to forgive me for the whole business with the feds." Sam replied eager to be on his way. Hanging out with a clearly emotional Fiona was not his idea of fun. He expected that fairly soon she was going to pull herself together, and start blowing things up.

Inside, he quickly gathered up his clothes and the few personal things he had brought with him. As he packed he talked. "I'm sure Mikey won't be that far behind us. I mean how long can a debrief take for one little unauthorized assault?" Finally he was ready to leave. "Er Fi, my car is at the bottom of the Miami River. Do you think.."

She threw him the keys to her own vehicle. "Don't lose it." She told him, managing a small smile.

()

With the loft to herself, Fiona unpacked the groceries and sat down on one of the high bar stools next to the work top. Opening a tray of Yellowtail sushi she rested her elbows on the top and slowly ate her lunch. Glancing at her watch she realized over an hour had passed since Michael had left, reaching for the new cell phone she sent him a text and a voice mail, telling him she had moved into the loft.

Thinking about Michael, and the CIA, reminded her she was still in the clothes she had on before they had been snatched and she and Sam had spent the night locked up in cells. Wrinkling her nose she headed for the tiny bathroom, a shower and then a lie down until Michael got back sounded like a good idea.

Walking into the bathroom, she came back out almost immediately carrying a pile of towels at arms length away from her body. Dumping the whole lot on the balcony she searched out Michael's meagre supply of towels, pausing to add fresh linen to her pile. Moments later the sheets and pillowcases from the bed joined the used towels outside.

With a freshly made bed to get into, Fiona went to run her shower. As she waited for the water to heat up she opened her case, and laid out one of Michael's dress shirts to put on later.

Stripping off, she stepped under the hot water and began to wash away all the dirt and grime of the last twenty four hours. The refreshing sting of the water, and the comforting softness of the foaming body wash removed all the tension from her tired muscles. Using her hands to brace against the tiled wall she let the water run down her back as she finally allowed all her pent up emotions to release.

A sob caught in her throat, then fought it's way out. As if a dam burst, her body convulsed, and another sob broke free followed by another, and another. The water from the shower mingling with the tears she finally allowed to flow.

Glenannes didn't cry, they bottled up their feelings until they could take no more before going out, and letting it all go in one spectacular display of destruction. They did not howl like a banshee, with tears falling down their cheeks like rain. Taking in big gulps of air, she straightened up, forcing her emotions back under control. Lifting her face up with eyes closed to let the water wash away the evidence of her weakness.

Turning off the shower she stepped out and dried herself off, breathing heavily as if she had run a marathon. Slipping on the dress shirt, she crawled into the bed and rested her head down on the pillows drifting off to sleep.

()

Michael checked his watch for the third time since he climbed into Max's car for the journey to the loft. A debriefing which he had expected to take no more than a couple of hours, had in the end lasted ten hours. Ten hours where Raines had refused permission for him to call Fiona to let her know what was happening.

"These things happen Michael, I mean the villa belonged to a foreign diplomat, and we shot holes in it." Max commented, as his passenger shifted in his seat, and took another look at his watch.

"I know. But one call, just to say I'm running late." Michael grumbled.

"Look we're here." Max put a hand on Michael's arm stopping him leaving the car. "I'll pick you up at eight tomorrow. Be ready, the company jet is wheels up at nine."

Dropping his head down, Michael nodded briefly before shaking free from Max's hand. Tomorrow Raines wanted him in Washington DC to go through everything he knew about the Perovic family.

()

There was no sign of Fiona's car, no lights on upstairs either. He paused on the bottom step, wondering what he was going to find inside. The Perovic's were dead, their organization in crisis until another family member stepped in to take over. But that didn't mean other enemies weren't looking for a chance to come after them.

Rubbing a hand over his eyes, he continued on his way up hoping she was inside safe and sound. Hoping she would accept his explanation that he had forgotten how long debriefing sessions could take.

Opening the door he peered inside, a weight lifting off his heart when he spotted a shape asleep in his bed. Quietly locking the door he slipped off his shoes, and jacket then padded over to the side of the bed.

Kneeling down he stared at her peacefully sleeping features. Gently he reached with his fingertips to move a few stray strands of hair off her face. Sucking in his cheeks as he saw the bruises forming on her forehead. Whoever kidnapped her for Perovic had hit her with what looked like the handle of a gun.

Not wanting to disturb her Michael went to stand, he would get cleaned up first and then join her in bed. A small hand closing on his wrist, stilled his movement. His breath hitched, as he saw the look of need in her eyes.

"Come to bed." She spoke softly. Shifting to lift the covers, exposing her lean body clothed only in one of his shirts.

Kneeling back down he cupped her cheek gently, his thumb tracing the line of her mouth. "I should have.."

He wanted to tell her how guilty he felt, how he should have been there to protect her, how he should have killed Raines for turning his friends loose without protection. But the words wouldn't come, as he lost himself in her gaze.

Reaching an arm around his neck, her fingers curled into his hair pulling him into a deep demanding kiss. Her tongue ran along his lips enticingly until he surrendered with a groan of pure passion.

Her other hand was moving down to his waistband, her fingers slipping inside. The only warning he got about what she planned to do, was her arms tensing just before she twisted her hips, and shoulders. Using her body, and the strength in her arms to throw him over her, and on to the bed.

"Fi?" He gasped her name as she straddled his waist.

Her lips pressed little kisses along his jaw, and onto his neck. His breathing becoming ragged as his tie was pulled roughly undone, and her nimble fingers made short work of his shirt.

His hands went to her waist of their own accord, pushing the shirt she wore upwards as a wave of passion surged through every inch of his being, causing him to arch upwards. Low growls escaping his mouth as she alternately nipped and then licked at his skin, setting his whole body aflame. Her nails scratching him, in his hair, around his neck and down his sides.

"Slow down." He hissed, as she bit down particularly hard on his shoulder.

"Make me." She challenged him in a low growl of her own, all the while her fingers worked at releasing his belt buckle.

Taking hold of her head between his hands, his fingers tangling in her hair. He firmly drew her into a slow deep languid kiss, ignoring how she stiffen and the sharp nails that scraped across his ribs and back, in protest at his change of pace.

Flipping her onto her back Michael used his body weight to end her assault, one hand capturing both her wrists holding her fast, hesitating when she let out a great racking sob.

"Fi? Fi what is it?" All concern now has he tried to look at her face.

"Shut up Michael." Her voice cracking with emotion as she stopped fighting for dominance.

Stroking a hand along her side, Michael lay soft tender kisses on her brow, cheek and eventually onto her neck. The tender but firm touch of his hard calloused hands making her shudder with desire wherever they travelled. His slow relentless seduction of her body dissipating her need for violence as foreplay.

Every kiss, renewed their need for each other. Every caress a sweet torture. Clothing came away as the craving to explore grew more desperate. Each touch was a rapturous new discovery, not to be rushed, the sensation to be enjoyed to the fullest before moving onto the next.

Fiona was being carried away on a cloud of pleasure so intense she never wanted to come down, almost incapable of thought as he ever so slowly claimed her body completely.

Crying out her name in worship Michael brought them both crashing over the edge in a tangle of limbs. So immersed in ecstasy, their bodies shuddered and twitched for minutes afterwards. They fell asleep their bodies entwined, wrapped in a cocoon of complete serenity.

()

She woke when he slipped out of her arms, turning she watched as he took something from his jacket pocket and then padded over to the fridge. Getting a bottle of water he palmed a handful of pills and knocked them down with the water.

"What are you doing?" She asked, propping herself on an elbow.

"A doctor, a company doctor prescribed them for me. Painkillers, anti anxiety meds and multi vitamins. He said they'd help me." He answered on his back to the bed.

"A CIA doctor tells you to take meds and you just do it? But when we ask you, your family and friends ask you. You refused, and acted like a child?" She accused.

"It's not like that. It's." He stopped halfway across the room.

"Really please explain." Fiona was sat up now, her arms wrapped around her knees.

"I thought you'd be happy. It's what you wanted." He replied coldly.

"I am but." She stopped, he was taking care of himself, it shouldn't matter who got him to do it. She continued, her tone softer. "I am happy, come back to bed."

She let him kiss her, as they settled back down, Michael pulling her into his body his hands stroking her sides and stomach.

"So why were you gone so long?" She asked.

His hands stilled. "Fi, I'm on my way back in. You know..."

"You can't tell me what you're doing, or where you go." She finished his words.

He kissed her neck. "Max is picking me up tomorrow at eight. I might be gone for a couple of days."

He bit his lip as she pulled away, turning to face him. "They won't let you have a day off? You're meant to be injured, their own doctor is prescribing you drugs."

"Fi, please it's just a couple of days." He pleaded, reaching out a hand but she pulled away. "I'm doing it for us, with what's happened, and Larry still out there we need..."

She stopped him, her hand cradling his cheek. "It's ok Michael." She shuffled closer, lifting her chin as he snuggled into her body. "We'll talk about it when you get back."


	24. Chapter 24

**Out of the ashes.**

**A/N: Thank you Daisy Day and Amanda Hawthorn for answering my question so promptly. This is a longer than normal chapter, it sort of took on a life of it's own.  
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Chapter twenty four,

As the sky started to lighten, and a narrow crack of sunlight began it's slow journey across the loft floor, Fiona woke from a deep relaxing sleep. Michael's warm body was pressed up tightly against hers, his lips gently caressing her neck as he mumbled incoherently in his sleep. She idly ran her fingers through his hair trying to soothe away whatever was disturbing his dreams.

Unable to get back to sleep, she watched the dust particles rising in the air as the beam of sunlight grew stronger. Feeling tension building throughout Michael's body caused her to look down at him, concerned to see an angry furrow appearing on his brow.

He pulled free of her arms, turning away one hand slipping under his pillow probably searching for the comforting presence of a handgun which wasn't there. Rolling onto her side, Fiona reached out stroking a hand down his back feeling the muscles sliding smoothly under his skin as he continued to move restlessly.

She could not understand why it was, she seemed to be the only one who realized he was too fragile for the work they were expecting him to do? She had tried talking to him, but he was too fixated on the desire to get back to his government job regardless of the cost. All she could do was be there for him, support him when he came back to her, and try to repair any damage the work had done.

A small smile curved her lips, maybe if she shot him, somewhere non-fatal just bad enough to stop him leaving. It would ensure he got the rest he so badly needed, and save her all the worry about where he was, and what he was doing.

Before she could take the thought any further he sat upright, eyes staring blindly ahead, breathing deeply. "Hey." She spoke softly, sitting up next to him. "It's alright, you're dreaming." He didn't move, his eyes were open but he wasn't seeing the loft. He flinched a couple of times, before turning to her, and with a whimper collapsed into her arms.

"I didn't mean it Ma." He whined, as tremors shook his body.

Laying down, she took him with her, cradling him in her arms. "It's alright Michael." She told him as his body continued to shake. They stayed wrapped in each others arms until he began to wake. As his eyes flickered open, Fiona closed hers, she wasn't ready for another talk about him leaving.

Instead she faked sleep, and lay listening to him preparing to leave. When the door closed on the bathroom she opened her eyes, and looked around. His bag was packed, waiting next to the door, his black suit pants and jacket lay on the work top, a pale blue striped shirt hung over the back of a chair with a blue tie draped over the top.

The shower stopped, and the bathroom door opened. She gazed at him from under hooded eyes as he stepped out wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist, another in his hand as he rubbed his hair dry. It was impossible not to notice the long scratch marks over his ribs and back, angry pink tracks that spoke of her confused, muddled emotions the night before.

Her eyes followed him as he walked over to the fridge collecting two pots of yoghurt, and tea spoons before coming over to her side, sitting on the edge of the bed. He handed her a strawberry Yoghurt, keeping the blueberry one for himself.

Droplets of water still ran down his chest, which he patted down with the towel he had draped over his shoulder. Before tucking into his breakfast.

"I know you're not happy about this." He spoke carefully, concentrating on his yoghurt. "But this is..."

"You don't have to explain it to me, I understand." She did her best to keep the hurt out of her voice. "I said I'd support you, whatever you choose to do, and I meant it." She put her pot down uneaten on the upturned box that passed as a bedside table, and laid her hand on his knee letting it glide up onto his thigh.

He finally raised his eyes to gaze at her, a hand stroking through her hair, cradling the back of her head. "Fi I."

He lent down laying a soft kiss on her lips, before straightening up. "I have to get ready. Max will be here soon." He stood up, ignoring the hand that slid from his thigh back onto the bed.

"Max. Who is he? Your new keeper." She taunted, the name was a bad taste in her mouth.

"He's my CIA contact. I'm not in yet, but if all goes well.." He stopped when he saw the look on her face. Sighing with frustration, he finished drying off before dropping the towels onto the floor and reaching for his underwear.

"Raines spoke about letting me look through the files they've compiled on Management's organization to see if I can add anything more. It's a chance for me to go through everything and maybe find out why, why they chose me." He attempted to justify his actions as he continued to dress.

Fiona climbed out of the bed, and walked over to him, picking up his tie on her way. As she dropped the tie over his head, positioning it under the collar of his shirt.

"It's over Michael what does it matter why. Management, Vaughn, Simon they're all dead, and you're free. Leave it at that, and start enjoying your life." She finished the tie off, pulling it tight.

He kissed the tip of her nose. "I am enjoying my life, I have you." He smiled at her, and moved back into the kitchen, she watched as he took another dose of the medication, and drop the three containers into his flight bag.

The sound of a car horn caught both their attention, Michael slipped into his jacket, before coming back to kiss her on the cheek. "I'll be back soon." He promised before picking up his bag and rushing out of the door.

She stood until she heard a car door slam, and then sat down on the bed snatching up the latest edition of Guns and Ammo, angrily flicking through the pages her mind elsewhere. Eventually throwing the magazine down she got to her feet. A glint of steel showing in her eyes, as she headed for the shower.

Twenty minutes later, feeling refreshed she opened her case pulling out a pretty pale blue summer dress, and matching four inch wedge sandals, she got ready to go out. If she stayed in she was going to fall apart.

Just as she stepped out of the door she remembered she had lent her car to Sam. Madeline's car was parked out on the street a quick look around, and she found the keys. Recalling Michael's words in his sleep she decided she would give Madeline a call later, and see how she was getting on in Las Vegas. For now she had things to do.

()

Michael sat down next to Max with the same stony expression he had worn when he had climbed out of the car the previous night.

"So what's up with you? You got to spend the night with your girlfriend. I haven't seen my wife for two weeks." Max pulled away heading for a private airport.

"How does she cope?" Michael asked. "I mean doesn't she worry, ask questions about what you do, and where you go?"

"She's ex military so she knows what the job is about." Max replied, looking at his passenger out of the corner of his eye. It was the first time he had heard genuine interest in the others voice. "Fiona's the same isn't she? I mean she has a colourful past. She understands, right?"

He didn't get an immediate reply, and guessed at the cause. "She doesn't understand?"

"Fiona." Michael felt uncomfortable talking to a near stranger about their relationship. "Is complicated." He settled for as an explanation.

"If she loves you she'll come round." Max told him with a smile. "Don't worry about it."

()

As soon as they sat down on the company jet, Raines handed Michael a thick folder. "Go through that, it covers your missions involving the Perovics. The committee have a lot of questions for you. So do your homework."

He turned his attention to Max. "I want you to go through the Westen debriefing report from the FBI." He handed Max a case full of CDs. "If all goes well you'll be working with him, and the burn file doesn't give the true story."

By the time the jet landed, Max had finished reading the nearly two weeks of interrogations Michael had gone through, and had also read about his last mission. It was that last mission which had opened the whole investigation up showing how far Devereux's organization had spread through the Military, government and business worlds.

Max kept his distance as Michael was led off the jet with Raines at his side, and surrounded by a whole team of agents. He followed along behind, intending to spend a couple of hours in his office, before going home.

Settled in his office Max decided to look into Westen's relationship with Sizemore. The two men had worked together for three years, and had recently been the centre of a State wide manhunt. It was as he was going through Larry's early career he came across a picture he hadn't expected to find. There was Devereux next to Sizemore, and in the background Raines.

Raines had never mentioned knowing either of the men. In itself that wasn't a problem, a lot of people would have met them over the years, but considering the situation Raines should have declared he knew them.

Max paused in his research, he knew he might be stepping into dangerous territory. But after a moment he continued, pulling up details on both Director Raines, and Larry Sizemore.

The two men had joined the CIA at the same time, Raines straight from college, Sizemore after a decorated career in Special forces. They had both worked under Devereux's command in Russia, Raines only for a short period of time, before being deployed to Cuba.

It was when Max moved on to looking at Raines, and Westen's association he came across another piece of intelligence. In 1985 Raines had been involved on one mission in Russia just before Devereux retired. There was a lot of connections between Devereux, Sizemore, Raines and Westen. Too many for it to be just coincidence.

Max rested his head in his hands, what he had was hot, too hot. He had no idea what to do with what he had found. If he went above Raines head, and was proved wrong, or if he handed it to the wrong person it would end his career if not his life.

"How's it going?" Max managed to keep control of his nerves, and glanced up casually to see Raines stood in the doorway to his office.

"I think I'm up to date now." Max replied calmly, switching his computer off.

"So do you think you can work with him?" Raines asked.

"Yes. I can't see a problem." Max was on his feet.

"Be honest, if you've read his file you know he's not easy to work with, a brilliant agent but unorthodox."

"So you're a fan?" Max wanted nothing more than to get out of his office, but he knew if he rushed away Raines would know something was wrong.

"I think with the right senior agent to keep him in check Michael Westen will be a very useful asset for the company." Raines replied with a grin, he looked at his watch. "Why don't you go see that wife of yours. Be back here tomorrow at nine, if Westen has the all clear I'll have a job for the pair of you."

Raines watched the younger man hurry away, and then went to the computer, a warning alert had shown up on his own computer that somebody in his department was looking at sensitive files. What he found on Max's computer sent him in to a cold rage. He'd had high hopes for Max, but now he was going to have to go.

()

Fiona opened the trunk of Madeline's car her earlier dark mood lifted as she looked at the shopping bags containing boxes of new shoes, and the large canvas bag next to them holding a new H and K compact with a silver slide, a 4th generation Glock 22, and two AR 15 rifles plus all the ammunition she could want until she could get to her own supplies.

It hadn't felt right being unarmed, now she planned a quiet afternoon cleaning her new toys followed by an evening at the firing range trying them out.

Slipping a full clip of bullets into the H and K she dropped it into her handbag, picking up the bags containing the shoe boxes she shut the trunk, the rest of the weapons could wait until later.

Letting herself inside the loft, she came to a halt. The smell of toast, filled the room, and there facing her with an annoying smirk on his face, and a piece of toast in his hand was Larry Sizemore.

"Hey Fiona, you're looking well." His mocking tone set her teeth on edge, and her hand reaching for her new hand gun.

She found herself staggering backwards, her gun clattering onto the floor, next to the butter knife Larry had thrown at her head. Wiping a thick smear of butter off her already bruised forehead she glared at her unwanted guest.

"Let's not turn this into a shooting match." He placed a gun of his own on the work top. "Because as much as I'd like to put a bullet in your skull, that's not what I'm here for."

"So what is it you want Larry?" She spoke through clenched teeth.

Larry slowly finished his slice of toast, his eyes on her all the time. His expression riling Fiona even more as he appeared to be laughing at her.

"How are you getting on with Michael now he's on his way back in?" His question surprised her.

"That's between me, and him." She replied coldly, her eyes fixed on a nice metal headed hammer lying on a shelf below the work top. Slowly walking towards Larry she stopped in front of him. "What's it to you?"

"Curiosity, I mean he doesn't love you, you do know that?" He smirked. "He loves his job, the excitement, all the life and death stuff. Now he's getting what he wants. He'll leave you behind."

"You don't know him." She dismissed his words trying to appear confident.

"I know this, his job, what it entails. Are ready to put up with this?" He placed a series of photographs on the work top.

She looked at them unwillingly, going pale when she saw old surveillance photos of Sasha and Michael together. In a restaurant, walking through a hotel lobby, and then in bed.

He took another slice of toast from the toaster. "Do you want a slice?" He still had that annoying cheesy grin on his face.

"No I want you to leave." Her hand was inching down for the hammer, thinking she would aim to break his hand when he went for his gun.

"I will, when I'm ready. How did you take it when he told you about sleeping with Sasha Perovic?" He tapped the photographic evidence. "Was he upset when you killed her?"

"He never." Fiona glared at him, denying the evidence. Meanwhile her fingers were closing around the wooden handle.

"Oh yes he did." Larry laughed. "I think you'll find he's slept with quite a few of his female assets, I mean that's how he met you isn't it? Though you've been a bit more clingy than the rest."

He finished the second slice of toast, and pointed to the bed, and a folder lying on the pillow. "Some light reading for you while Michael is away, maybe it will help you understand why he doesn't want to talk about work. Call it a welcome back present."

As Larry pointed across the room Fiona made her move, gripping the handle of the hammer she swung it at the smug faced undead spy. The hammer missed his hand as it flashed down to pick up the gun, but did knock the weapon on to the floor.

As he reached down to pick it up Fiona lent as far over the counter as she could sending another blow towards his head. But Larry was fast, and knew all the tricks. He grabbed her arm twisting the hammer out of her hand then pulling her over the counter to throw her flat on the floor, his hand went around her throat, fingers digging in cutting off her airways.

He lent close to her, the smile gone replaced with a snarl, his eyes those of an emotionless killer. "I'm trying to be nice, but don't test me." He squeezed until her struggles ceased, and her lips were turning blue.

Letting her go, he got to his feet as she lay there struggling to get air into her lungs. "Tell Michael I said hi." Larry placed his gun into the shoulder holster he wore under his jacket.

He left the loft, walking stiffly down the steps, and out on to the road where he left his car. He wondered what Fiona would do, now he had opened the wounds. Fiona Glenanne didn't strike him as the type of woman who would be willing to share her man. Humming a little tune he drove away. Time to return another favour, and go rattle Sam Axe's cage a little bit.

()

Sam was having a well deserved lie in, stretching out in the super king size bed on two thousand thread Egyptian cotton sheets. Looking down he couldn't help the grin that was plastered on his face. Elsa's blond hair was draped like a curtain over her face, from where she lay with her head on his chest. He reached over to the bedside table and picked up his phone, the display showing it was after eleven am.

"Hey sweetheart." He gave Elsa's shoulder a gentle shake, then lifted the hair off her face. "It's nearly lunchtime."

She opened one eye and gazed up at him. "What did you say?" She groaned rolling off him to sit up.

"It's eleven fifteen." He replied, sitting up to kiss the back of her neck. "_I'm hungry_." He growled softly into her ear.

He delighted at the little shiver that ran up her spine. "You're a naughty boy." She slapped his hands away and shuffled out of the bed, slipping into a robe.

"Get dressed while I order some food down by the pool." She was already reaching to make the call.

"Poolside." Sam was hoping for something a little more private.

"I have to make an appearance, and I want to check the pool bar supplies." She turned away, speaking into the phone. "Rita, we'll be eating by the pool in half an hour can you set up a table for us?"

"Hey Big Momma! If we have half an hour." Sam pulled back the sheet and patted the space next to him suggestively.

Elsa giggled before trying to give him a stern look. "You're recovering from pneumonia you're meant to take things easy." She pointed to the en-suite. "Go shower."

Clambering out of the bed Sam gave her a salute. "Yes Ma'am."

()

Half an hour later the couple were sat at a table under a large umbrella in a private fenced off area near the large main swimming pool. While Elsa sipped on a cup of strong black coffee and picked at a chicken salad, Sam supped on a large glass of imported beer and tucked into a steak sandwich.

So busy with each other, neither notice a tall man with short wavy brown hair dressed in an expensive suit making his way over. Stopping at the pool bar, he came away with a cuban coffee and entered Elsa's private enclosure.

"Hello Sam, so nice to see you doing so well for yourself." Larry sat down, his drink in one hand his other in his jacket pocket.

"Larry." Sam answered carefully, all signs of good humour gone.

"Sam, who is …." Elsa could sense the change in the atmosphere.

Larry took her hand in his placing a kiss on the back of her hand, all the time his eyes mocking Sam. "Oh I'm an _old friend _of Sam's. Called me Larry." He released Elsa's hand.

"Oh." She looked from one to the other.

"What are you doing here Larry?" Sam growled, taking Elsa's hand in his own.

"Oh I just thought I'd call in, let you know I know where you're staying. You know in case I need to get in touch sometime." He sipped his coffee. "I must compliment you Elsa, your hotel makes a lovely Cortadito. Simply marvellous." He got to his feet. "I'll see you around sometime Sam, say hello to Michael for me."

Sam stayed on high alert until Larry was out of sight. "_Damn_." He growled, reaching into his pocket he pulled out his phone and called Fiona. If Larry had been to see him he probably intended on calling on her as well.

"Fi, Larry was just here at the hotel." He announced. There was silence at the other end, which sent Sam's blood pressure soaring. "Fiona!"

"Yes Sam I heard you." She finally replied, Sam thought she sounded distracted. "Larry has already paid me a visit."

"And you're ok, do you need me to come over?" He knew there was no way they could get hold of Michael at the moment.

"No Sam, I'm armed and I don't think he'll be coming back."

"Ok sister, but you need me. Call." Sam ordered.

()

Fiona eyed at the folder lying on her bed suspiciously. There would be nothing in it she wanted to see. It was from Larry, it would bring nothing but trouble.

Turning away she went to collect a yoghurt from the fridge, her eyes inadvertently straying to the pictures Larry had left on the work top. They were old photos Michael was young in them, far younger than when they had met. She picked them up, tearing them to shreds, if it had been any other woman she could have ignored it. Dropping the pieces into a metal bin she went back to the bed snatching up the folder.

She held it in her hands unable to move, dropping down onto the bed she gave into her curiosity and opened the folder. She moved the pieces of paper around, there was details of some of Michael's assignments. Then she saw it, Michael's mission brief for his assignment in Ireland to find a way into the Belfast charter of the IRA. Behind it, pages containing his progress reports.

She knew exactly what Larry was doing, he had tried the same thing before, he had filled her head with details of some of the nasty jobs he and Michael had worked together, this time he was just taking it further.

She couldn't stop her hand picking up the pile of neatly typed progress reports on Michael's infiltration of the IRA.

()


	25. Chapter 25

**Out of the ashes:**

**A/N: Amanda Hawthorn and Daisy Day thank you as always for reading through part of this chapter for me.**

Chapter Twenty Five,

()

Fiona sat cross legged on the bed, her elbows resting on her knees with her hands supporting her chin. Before her, all the pages from the folder Larry had left as 'a gift'. It was only after she had looked at that first page she realized what the grinning sociopath had done, and by then it was too late to stop. She had opened her own personal Pandora's box, filled with each and every one of her fears about Michael getting his job back. Every page she turned, documented something nasty, and usually bloody.

She didn't know how Larry had managed it, but somehow he had crawled inside her head, and brought her worst nightmares to life.

Wiping a hand over her eyes, Fiona had tried to tell herself it was just Larry spreading mischief, after all he had done it before. Telling her of past assignments, doing his best to convince her Michael was like him. A merciless killer. She had been on the point of destroying it all, until she got to the last ten pages.

The documents that described a FBI joint mission with MI5. The assignment to infiltrate the IRA, and identify those members who might cause trouble during the delicate negotiations involved in the peace process.

She had already read through the reports once, but she couldn't help herself as she sorted them into order again. Throwing aside the first page, she turned to the next her eyes skimming over the page.

The words stung her soul, as much the second time as they had the first. Some British intelligence officer had chosen her. Had watched her every move, and word, then noted it all down to be poured over by some analyst back in London. There was even a whole page dedicated to her failed relationships, and theories about why they had failed. She crumpled the offending document up, and hurled it across the room. This was far worse than any physical assault, she felt violated, and the worse thing about it all was Michael was part of it.

As much as it disgusted her, it was this evidence that convinced her it was all genuine. Because unless he had been there Larry would not have been able to fake all the details. Details like which shops she favoured, where she went to Mass, how she always called into the Red Bull pub before going on a night out. It made her sick to the stomach to think some British spy had trailed after her, so an American spy had all the necessary information to seduce her.

She wondered if she had been right before, when she had questioned if it was really Michael McBride she had fallen in love with. Michael _Westen's_ reply when she had asked that very question came back to haunt her. "_You become who you have to, to get the job done." _

With a growl of raw anger Fiona swiped every bit of paper off the bed, and on to the floor, she had fallen for it all. She had fallen in love with a man who had looked at her as a job, a means to an end. In his world, an expendable asset. All the old feelings of betrayal, and distrust came flooding back.

Before she could break down completely the incessant ringing of her phone broke into her thoughts. For a second she considered sending the device across the floor. Instead, she took a deep calming breath, and snatched it up, scowling at the display showing Sam's name.

"Fi, Larry was just here at the hotel." Sam's voice came through the earpiece full of anger and worry. Fiona closed her eyes tight, she had her own issues at the moment.

"Fiona!" His shout jerked her back into the moment.

"Yes Sam I heard you." She finally managed to reply. "Larry has already paid me a visit."

"And you're ok, do you need me to come over?" He sounded concerned.

"No Sam, I'm armed and I don't think he'll be coming back." She replied. Thinking "_Please don't come over here."_

"Ok sister, but you need me. Call." He made it sound like an order.

The call had brought her back down to earth, she needed to occupy herself until Michael got back to answer her questions. Until then she needed something to do, getting to her feet she went over to her memory box, digging around inside until she found what she was looking for, her Father's diary. Opening it to the last page, she made her way into the kitchen. Larry had left her a present, it was only fitting she returned the favour.

As she bent down to get a glass mixing bowl out of the cupboard, the loft darken as the clouds began thickened. Looking out of the window she smiled grimly, the weather seemed to be picking up on her mood.

()()

It had taken Sam several hours to convince Elsa that not only was the smartly dressed man, with the charming smile, and the expensive suit was dangerous. But also it was necessary for her to leave town for a few days while he dealt with the Larry problem. All the time he had been laying on the charm he had been waiting for her to tell him to get out of her life. Instead, after a bit of pouting she had packed three large suitcases with her bare essentials, and then insisted she needed to take a telephone conference call.

While he waited for her to finish her meeting, he had pulled out every weapon he had with him. This time he wasn't taking any chances with Larry.

"Hey! Sammy guess what I've got?" He looked up from loading his guns, at the sound of her singsong tone. Elsa stood in the doorway, striking a provocative pose while waving a piece of paper in his direction.

"What ya got there pumpkin?" He grinned as she sauntered towards him, her hips swaying enticingly.

"What would you say to the girl who brought you the name of the hotel, and the room number of where...Now what did you call him? An evil, manipulating..." She came to a stop in front of him holding the piece of paper out of his reach.

He grabbed hold of her around the waist, and pulled her in close, snatching the piece of paper out of her hand. "How did you?" He couldn't believe what he read.

"Oh I have lots of friends, I just called a few of them, gave them a far more flattering description than you would have done, and _viola!_" She planted a kiss on his cheek. "Will this speed things up?"

"It sure will baby." He replied, turning her face towards him for a long deep kiss. Things were definitely looking up.

Sam walked out of the Dearbon hotel an hour later, glancing upwards at the clouds which were starting to build up along the Miami coastline, bringing a promise of rain later, and relief from stifling humidity. Elsa was on her way to a private airport, and a flight to Cancun, and he had Larry Sizemore's present whereabouts.

Now he stood on the pavement outside the hotel admiring the handiwork of Jeff, and Billy Taylor, the custom car mechanics Michael had helped with a drug kingpin problem. The charger was polished, shiny, and once again back in one piece, not a hint of a bullet hole anywhere, even the wing mirror had been replaced.

"Hey can you ask Mike to _please_ try to keep it in one piece for a bit longer than two weeks." Billy Taylor asked, as he handed the keys over.

"I can ask him, but Mikey's the type of guy who tends to attract bullets. So no promises on that." Sam replied, running an appreciative hand over the hood of the black muscle car. "Thanks for this fellas."

"Yeah, well, just try to take it easy." Jeff patted Sam on the back, before joining his brother in a red GTO.

After watching the Taylor brothers drive away, Sam got into the charger. A turn of the key, and the engine roared to life, the loud raucous growl had him grinning from ear to ear. The Taylors had tuned up the engine as well as repairing the bodywork. Before he could fully appreciate the more powerful engine, his cell began to ring.

"Hey." He got no further in his greeting.

"Where's Fiona?" It was possible to pick up on Michael's anxiety level just from those two words.

"Larry's been making house calls." Sam replied, he heard a sharp intake of breath. "No it's ok, she's fine I spoke to her a couple of hours ago." He soothed.

"She's not answering my calls. Can you go see her, make sure she's alright." Sam hated the neediness that was coming through the phone.

"Take it easy Mike, I'll go round there now." Sam promised starting to look for a place where he could turn round.

"What did Larry want? What did he say?" Came snapped out questions.

"He was just making his presence felt, but he slipped up, I've gotta lead on where to find him." Sam had thought the news would cheer his friend up.

"I'm on my way." Came an angry response. "I should be back before midnight. Don't do anything until I get there." Abruptly the line went dead. With a sigh, Sam managed to get the car turned round, and headed towards the causeway, and the loft.

Michael had sounded like he was falling to pieces, not a good thing in a CIA operative. It was worrying that he could see similarities between what had happened before, with the FBI. But if he was right that would mean whoever was paying Larry had to have a contact high up in the CIA.

Pulling up behind Madeline's car Sam made his way up the steps, and knocked on the door. "Hey Fiona, are you in there?" He called out.

Getting no answer he took a deep breath, and unlocked the door with his own key. "Hey Fiona! It's just me, no need to shoot."

Cautiously he entered the loft, and came to an abrupt stop. Fiona was stood at the work bench, stirring a paste in a large mixing bowl, if it wasn't for the long rubber gloves, safety goggles, and the harsh smell of chemicals he would have thought she was doing some baking.

"What do you want Sam?" She snapped, without looking up.

"Mike just called me, he was worried you weren't picking up." Becoming concerned when she sent him a death glare at the mention of Michael's name.

"So er what're you cooking up there Fi?" He had a horrible suspicion he wasn't going to like her answer.

"It was my Da's special recipe." She answered.

He watched as she picked up a glass bottle, and carefully measured out a small amount of the yellow liquid inside before adding it to the mixture.

"So it's not a cake you're baking then?" He stepped forward, peering at the diary and the scribbled writing.

"A little home made explosive. I'm thinking about paying Larry a visit." She finally looked up with a truly scary smile on her face. "I thought I'd take him a welcome to Miami cake."

He saw a fancy biscuit tin sitting on the counter, next to a box of screws, detonators and fuse wire. This was old school IRA, the home made bomb in biscuit tin. Highly unstable, and lethal when detonated. Whatever Larry had done, had definitely sent her off the deep end.

"Er that's quite a _cake_ you're making there, but don't you think we should find him first. You know make sure he's somewhere alone, with no neighbours?" Sam asked mildly.

She stopped what she was doing, to stare at him. "You're right. Do you think he'd be stupid enough to still at the Epic?"

"No, I do not. Elsa talked to her buddies at the other hotels, and somebody fitting Larry's description checked into the St Regis in Bal Harbour. He's using the name Barry Garner, I have his room number as well. But I'm not blowing up a hotel to get one man, even if it's Larry." He stated firmly.

She looked wistfully at the mixture. "We'll have to lure him out." She decided, turning her hard eyed gaze back to her home made explosive.

"Fi, I want him gone, but blowing him up, especially with that, could get a lot of innocent people hurt." He gently reasoned.

She didn't answer straight away, staring into the dangerous mixture before her, she remained deep in thought. Slowly she looked up, and pulled off the gloves, and goggles.

"Fine. But I get to shoot him." She demanded.

"Maybe we'll both shoot him just to make sure." Sam grinned, and was relieved when she grinned back. "So you're coming with me to scout the place?"

He watched as her eyes drifted over to the papers scattered around the bed. Clearing his throat Sam stepped directly in front of her. "Whatever Larry told you Fi, forget about it."

"It's none of your business Sam, and I'll forget about what he said when he's dead." She answered flatly. Picking up a tea towel she draped it over the mixing bowl and placed it in the fridge. "Let me get my bag."

()()

Michael came out of the committee room pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. He truly thought if they had asked him one more question about General Dobrubin Perovic his head would have exploded. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up to find Director Raines at his side, a beaming smile on his face.

"You did good in there. You answered all their questions, and didn't lose your temper once." Raines praised him before giving him a concerned look. "You are remembering to take the meds? I can't keep you on if you don't cooperate."

"Yes I'm taking the meds but they don't seem to be doing much." Michael answered, irritation plain in his voice as he blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision.

"Patience Michael you've got to give them time to work." Raines gently reprimanded. "Now I've booked you into a nearby hotel, your bags have already been sent over. So go lie down, and get some rest. I have you, and Max booked on an early flight back to Miami tomorrow. There's a little job waiting for you both. Max has all the details." Raines was guiding him along the corridor.

"I want to go back tonight. I have things I need to sort out." Michael stopped walking, he hated sounding like he was begging for a favour.

"The girlfriend?" Raines asked with a smirk.

"Yes the girlfriend." Michael clenched his teeth, he didn't want to get into his relationship problems with his boss.

Raines sighed, and looked down at the floor for a moment considering if letting Michael go would benefit him or not. "Fine, go to the hotel, collect your gear and get to the airport. I'll have booked you on a flight by the time you get there." Decision made he hid his grin, this made him the good guy. Let the girlfriend deal with the tired, irritable burnt spy.

"Thanks." Michael grinned through the pain, and went to walk away.

"Michael." Raines stopped him with that word. "Be ready for tomorrow night. I don't care about your personal life. Just that you do the job."

With a quick nod, Michael set off through the corridors until he found a way outside. As he walked along the pavement he dialled Fiona's number. The third time his call went to voice mail he gave up, and tried Sam.

"Hey."

As soon as he heard Sam's voice he broke in. "Where's Fiona?" He demanded, not meaning to sound so desperate.

"Larry's been making house calls." Came Sam's dry reply, Michael drew in a sharp breath this was bad. "No it's ok, she's fine I spoke to her a couple of hours ago." Sam added hurriedly.

"She's not answering my calls. Can you go see her, make sure she's alright."

"Take it easy Mike, I'll go round there now." Sam replied.

"What did Larry want? What did he say?" Michael snapped out the questions, pushing his way through a group of pedestrians.

"He was just making his presence felt, but he slipped up, I've gotta lead on where to find him."

"I'm on my way." Michael looked at his Watch, it was nearly six pm. "I should be back before midnight. Don't do anything until I get there." He ended the call abruptly, to turn his icy gaze on the hotel receptionist waiting to greet him.

()()

It was eleven thirty pm, Fiona slammed the loft door shut, and stalked across the open space. Three hours wasted, they had scouted the hotel, and found the position of the room where they believed Larry was staying. But the curtains had stayed closed the whole time, and the room next door was occupied for another two days, so there was no chance to eavesdrop. Eventually Sam had insisted they call it a night, and had driven her back to the loft.

She stared at the mess she had left in the kitchen, and then at the papers spread out across the floor. Just as she reached down to start picking up the pages, she heard heavy footsteps on the metal staircase. Grabbing up a gun she faced the door.

She stared at Michael's tired, weary features as he stopped just inside the door. "Fi?" He asked a look of concern on his face.

He dropped his bags, and started towards her. "Sam said Larry..." Coming to an abrupt halt when he saw the look on her face, and heard the click of the hammer being drawn back on the gun in her hand.

"Whatever Larry said.." He began, raising his hands in surrender.

She sat down on the edge of the bed. "He said very little actually. But he did leave this." She spoke crisply, shuffling through the pile of papers now resting on her lap.

"Fiona Ciaran Glenanne, age twenty three, is believed to be involved in raising funds for the Irish Republican Army. Has three older brothers all with connections to the leaders of the Belfast charter. No regular boyfriend.."

As she continued to read, Michael went pale realizing what she held. How had Larry got hold of a mission brief from Britain? His lips tightened into a thin line.

"Fi it's not what you think." He stepped closer, his hands dropping down to his sides.

"Tell me Michael. What did you think when you read my file. Were you pleased when they showed you my photograph, and said that I was the girl you were to seduce?" She glared at him through tear filled eyes.

"We talked about all this when you found out I wasn't McBride." He spoke softly, reaching out for her, but she slapped his hand away with the handgun.

"Answer my question!" She demanded, her eyes narrowing.

"Yes." He answered, then in little more than a whisper. "Yes I was pleased."

"What about this part? Target acquired seems eager to continue a relationship. I see that was after our first date. Did you send in reports on everything we did?" The gun was wavering now, he was right they had discussed all this when she found out who he really was, but that folder had re-opened all the old wounds.

"No I didn't. Fi, reading that will drive you mad. I thought we had made our peace." He was in front of her now, his hand reaching out to her but stopping when she stiffened, her lip curling in disdain.

"Did you mean what you wrote about me? What you spoke to your handler about? It's revolting Michael, I was just a _thing_ to you, a means to an end." She got to her feet, crossing her arms over her chest. The look she sent him was deadly.

"I had a job to do, you know that." His quiet reasonable tone was driving her insane.

He winced as she slammed her high heel down on his foot. "You bugged my home." She snarled.

"It was for one.. OW!" She had brought her knee up sharply, he only just managed to alter his position enough to take the blow on the inner thigh.

"You had _my_ driver arrested so _you_ could take his place. You knew he had a wife, and four children." She accused, jabbing a finger into his chest.

"I was doing my job." He gritted the words out catching hold of her wrist, pulling her in close to his body. The first spark of anger showing in his eyes.

"Your job. The job you want back?" She twisted in his grip, but he wouldn't let go. "Jobs like assassinating an Iranian nuclear scientist? Or maybe stealing another governments secrets, and leaving the _assets_, that helped you to a firing squad?"

He stared at her, realizing what Larry had done. He had given her just enough truth, to make the lies seem real.

"How about, finding the location of four missing American tourists kidnapped in India." He shot back. "Or negotiating a peace between two villages in North Africa."

They stared at each other, neither quite ready to give in to the other. When he let go of her wrist, Fiona took a step back wiping a hand over her eyes.

"Go take a shower, we'll talk about this in the morning when we're both feeling a little less tired." She spoke wearily.

He nodded, and backed away slowly.


	26. Chapter 26

**Out of the ashes.**

Chapter twenty six,

Fiona watched Michael back away from her, barely contained anger plainly registering in the intensity of his gaze. Only when he stepped into the bathroom slamming the door shut, did she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Collapsing back onto the bed, Fiona ran her fingers through her hair so it spread like a fan about her head, letting one arm drop carelessly across her eyes to block out the dim light above the bed. She sank down into the mattress giving into the fatigue that was seeping through her mind, and limbs.

Not even Claire's death had left her feeling as utterly drained as she felt now. It seemed that every time she thought they were getting some peace back into their lives Larry the unfriendly ghost would put in another appearance.

The pattering noise of water splashing down in the shower began to soothe her shattered emotions, allowing her mind to drift to back to memories of an old dilapidated barn close to the border with Southern Ireland. Laying there on the bed she cleared her mind of thoughts of spies, and intelligence documents.

Instead she remembered how on a cold dark night, they had clung onto each other slipping, and stumbling along a muddy, pot holed farm track. Each ragged breath sending out a clouds of condensation which curled up in front of their faces before dissipating in the cold night air. The shouts of the men pursuing them had carried across the open fields, urging them onwards. Occasionally a crack of gunfire rang out as her brothers tried to lead the soldiers away from their little sister, and her injured boyfriend.

Michael was wounded, in no condition to cut across the ploughed fields, and climb the high stone walls that led to the safety of the South. With the roads being patrolled, and the rain beginning to come down heavier, the sight of an old wooden barn had been a godsend.

Safely, out of sight, and out of the heavy rain, which bounced, and clattered off the corragated iron roof. They had sat shivering, wrapped in an old piece of tarpaulin, concealed from any prying eyes by broken wooden pallets, and rotten bales of straw.

It was right then that she heard the name Michael Westen for the first time. The discussion which followed was carried out in angry whispers, and lasted all night. In the morning she had stayed because regardless of what he had done, she couldn't face leaving a wounded man behind.

Two weeks later they were still together, he had managed to put a spin on helping her escape, convincing his handler it would help deepen his cover. She told herself, she preferred to have him where she could keep an eye on whatever piece of treachery he was up to.

Eventually though she had come to terms with who he was, and what he had done. Overtime her acceptance had given him the chance to regain her respect, and trust.

The sounds from the shower ceased, the silence bringing her back to the present. With an angry hiss she rolled over gathering up the whole mission brief, and his progress reports.

Not so long ago she had told Jesse to get over being burned, she had said it to him, at a time when their betrayal had still been a raw open wound. The words on the documents in her hand, were ancient history, meaningless now. Could she really hold Michael responsible for the humiliation of having her whole life dissected by strangers?

Gathering every scrap of paper together she stared at Larry's 'gift'. There was no way she was going to let Larry Sizemore ruin what she had with Michael. What they had built together since arriving in Miami. Getting to her feet she marched over to the kitchen, and dropped the whole lot into a metal bin. Standing the bin in the sink she searched the drawers for some matches.

"Fi?"

That one word spoken so softly, made Fiona turn to stare at Michael, dressed in boxers, and an under shirt, with his hair, still wet from the shower he gazed at her from the doorway. His eyes fixed on the unlit match in her hand.

"You know I would never deliberately hurt you?" He swallowed, and looked away. "What I wrote.."

"All this." She tilted the bin so he could see what she was doing. "Was a long time ago, we're no longer the same people we were back then. Besides, it came from Larry, and I'm not going to let him ruin what we have." With that she struck the match, and set light to the contents of the bin.

"So we're alright?" He asked hopefully, stepping towards her.

"No Michael we're far from alright. There are still things I need to know." She was watching the fire, entranced by the flames that licked upwards, now if only Larry was so easy to rid off.

She felt his breath on her neck as he came up alongside her. "Can it wait until the morning?" He asked, she thought she detected a slight whine in his tone.

As the flames died down she turned to face him, noting the lines of stress around his mouth and eyes.

"All those people you hurt over the years, do you ever think about them? Do you ever feel sorry about what you did?"

He stiffened, he had just spent a long day answering questions from a roomful of people who thought he was at the very least unreliable. He had then rushed back, worried that Larry had harmed her in some way only to face more accusations. His fingers flexed before curling into fists at his sides.

"Michael?" She wasn't prepared for a long wait while he formulated the answer he _thought_ she wanted.

"No." He snapped, then brought himself back under control. "Am I sorry I did things to protect American lives? No I'm not. That sometimes innocent people got caught up in what I did. Yes I'm sorry they got hurt. But I can't let it stop me doing my job."

"What about now? Your family, and friends. Where do we fit into your new life?" She watched his reaction to her words.

He remained mute, his brow creasing.

"It's not a hard question. How do you see things working out now?" She pushed for an answer.

"I don't know Fi." He admitted. "I need you in my life, I want you to stay." He moved closer, relaxing his hands, and settling them on her waist.

"I'm not going anywhere Michael. But what about you, and this CIA job? All the people you were hunting are dead. You're still..." She bit her lip as he let go of her, and turned away. "The specialist said you needed to rest, whatever you're friend Raines is medicating you with isn't.."

His hands slapped down on the work top. "I've just spent the whole damn day answering stupid questions, I don't need the same from you." He growled.

The harsh aggression in his voice made her step back. She had never been frightened of him before, but there was a strange brightness to his eyes, and his lips were drawn back in a snarl.

"Going to DC was your choice Michael." She snapped back, her own eyes flashing fire.

"What am I meant to do Fi? Sit around keeping my mom company while you, and Sam take on some little low paying job." He began to pace, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "I mean look at how that turned out for you."

"That bitch grabbed me under Larry's orders." Fiona's own temper was up now, and she came round the work top to grab hold of his arm. "And just like every other time he makes an appearance you.."

She fell back, the blow that caught her on the cheek knocked her back against the work top, and made her head ring. "_Michael!"_ She shrieked as he stalked away from her.

He was no longer thinking clearly, grabbing up his clothes from the bathroom floor he hurriedly got dressed. The whooshing sound of his blood rushing through his veins, blocked out all other sound, everything around him seemed tinged with red. His skin, and the muscles underneath, even his hair and nails all felt raw and tight. It was as if at any second he was going to fly apart.

"_Michael!"_ Fiona blocked the bathroom door.

He ignored her, knocking her aside as he snatched her purse off the bed, and pulled out her gun.

"You want Larry dead? That's fine by me." He shouted at her, as he stormed out of the loft.

"Michael don't!" Fiona followed him down the metal staircase, one hand clutching at her jaw. But he wasn't listening, he opened the door to his mother's car, and drove off without looking back.

Shaking with shock, Fiona stood frozen in place. After a moment she turned, sprinting back inside. Luckily he had only taken her gun, and the car keys from her bag, picking up her phone she dialled Sam's number. Surprised when he picked it up on the first ring.

"What's up Fi?"

"Michael just took off. I think he is going to kill Larry." She told him.

"So what's his plan, where does he need us?"

"There is no plan, we were fighting, and he just snapped. The state he's in at the moment I think he might just walk in there, and shoot him. You're going to have to get over there, and try to stop him."

She heard Sam sigh. "Ok how long ago did he leave?"

"Less than a minute, call me when you find him. I've got to go steal a car." She ended the call, taking a deep breath, and then her gaze strayed to the fridge, where she had left her nearly complete bomb. The mixture was notoriously unstable, but it only needed the detonator fitting, and then packing into the biscuit tin.

()()()()

As he drove through South Beach towards Bal Harbour Michael dialled Larry's number, it took two attempts to dial correctly as his hand shook with anger.

"Hey kid." Came Larry's relaxed voice. "I thought I might be hearing from you soon."

"I'm going to be on the roof of the parking garage opposite the St Regis, looking into your room in twenty minutes. If you don't turn up, I'm going to come looking for you." He spat the words out.

Snapping the phone shut, Michael stamped down hard on the accelerator. Concentrating solely on his intended target ignoring the other drivers on the road, he sped through intersections regardless of the colour of the lights. Oblivious to everything, other than his need to get to the meeting.

When he reached the parking garage, the lock was smashed and the security gates were wide open. The fact that Larry was waiting somewhere in the structure for him didn't cause Michael to slow down at all. He drove up the ramps, tyres squealing heading for the roof.

Finally he brought the car to a stop, standing in plain sight under the night sky, Larry was waiting for him. Switching off the engine, Michael got out of the car, Fiona's gun in his hand. He marched forward, his expression blank, totally emotionless.

()

Larry knew that paying Fiona, and Sam a visit would spark a dangerous reaction from Michael, in fact he had been banking on it. The longer he had thought about what he had helped Raines gain, the more he wanted it for himself. Not the running of a covert black ops organization, that he was willing to let the survivors fight over. No he wanted the money he could get extorting or blackmailing them. To do that he needed Raines to lose his new toy. Besides Michael was his kid, he thought of him as a son.

And his 'son' needed to learn some manners.

"I want you gone!" Michael shouted across the empty parking bays. "Out of my life. If I see you again I'll shoot on sight."

Larry stood his ground, his eyes fixed on the gun in the younger man's hand. He knew that if Michael really meant to shoot him there would be no warning in his expression. Michael was a professional, in their world if you made the decision to kill the last thing you wanted was to telegraph your move. No, the only indication would be the gun coming up, and that would happen fast.

"No you won't kid. You kill me you'll be all alone. Nobody understands you the way I do. We're the same, just like family." He watched Michael's hand, noticing a slight tremor.

Like any predator spotting a weakness in his prey, Larry took advantage moving forward with a disarming smile plastered on his face.

"Besides." He smirked as he closed the distance, raising his left hand slowly to point towards a lone parked car. "My friend Hank.." It was an old trick, but sometimes the old ones were the best.

He didn't hesitate, Michael's attention was split for a mere second but it was enough. In his right hand, held against his leg Larry hid a length of re-enforced steel. Before Michael could correct his error, Larry brought his weapon up, and swung it hard into the arm holding the gun.

"Too slow kid. You let your temper get the better of you, and look what happens." He lectured, following his prey as Michael staggered backwards clutching at his injured arm.

"Stop acting Michael I know it's not broken." He jabbed the rebar into the kid's arm, enjoying the look of pain crossing over the other's face.

"Now, I was going to wait a few months." He jabbed Michael in the chest this time. "Until your so called friends got a chance to see the old Michael Westen in action. The one who would do whatever it took to finish a job. But now I'm giving you.."

Suddenly Michael wasn't retreating any more, Larry only just managed to maintain his grip on his weapon. As the younger man tried to wrench it from his hand. Looking into icy cold blue eyes, Larry couldn't help but grin. It looked like the 'old' Michael Westen was back. That grin faded, when a kick took his knee out from under him, and another connected with his ribs.

Stumbling from the kick to his knee Larry managed to pull Michael off balance enough to jerk the rebar free. Swinging it up, and round he delivered a glancing blow to the side of his attacker's head. Michael dropped onto the concrete as if boned.

"MICHAEL!" Fiona's shriek could be heard echoing across the Parking lot.

Larry looked up, his expression triumphant. Laughing, he pulled a key fob from his pocket, operating the button that opened the trunk of his car. Bending down he grabbed hold of Michael's collar, dragging the limp body towards his car. Fiona was too far away, her shout had come from the balcony of his own hotel room. All the psychotic little arms dealer could do was watch.

He only got two paces before a heavy weight collided with his back, sending him sprawling across Michael's body. As he tried to right himself a fist connected with his jaw, sending him rolling off to the side. A booted foot knocked the air out of his lungs, and he groaned as if in agony.

Sam Axe, was kneeling down at Michael's side. "Hey Mikey come on wake up now." Larry listened to the worry in the other's voice.

Moving slowly, with all his concentration on Axe, Larry stealthily drew a long bladed knife from a sheath specially stitched into his jacket. Moving swiftly, he lashed out feeling the knife cut through flesh like butter.

Letting out a cry of pain, Sam backed away, blood flowing freely from his left arm. With a feral grin Larry pressed his advantage, driving Sam away from Michael's unmoving body.

"At last I get a chance to put you down." He growled, enjoying the hatred he could see in Sam's eyes. Hatred and grief. Like lightening he altered his grip on his knife, and hurled it straight at the large colourful hawaiian shirt.

The words enraged the ex SEAL. "Right back at you Larry." He growled in reply, managing to avoid the blade that clattered to the ground.

"You won't kill me Axe, you're nothing but a washed up, boy scout." Larry sneered, his hand reaching for his gun.

"Yeah well how about this for a washed up boy scout move." Sam Axe was left handed, but he had somehow managed to pull his gun with his right hand, and fire hitting his opponent in the chest.

Larry fell backwards, gasping for air, instinctively his hands clutching at his chest. Not for the first time he was thankful for his bulletproof vest.

"Stay put." Sam ordered. "Or I'll kill you where you lay. Now get rid of that gun under your arm." To make a point Sam fired into the ground sending a ricochet into Larry's arm.

Letting out a yelp, Larry tossed his gun away. A cold fury building, there was no way on earth he was being taken out of the game by Sam Axe. With barely a thought his hand flickered, and seemingly out of nowhere another knife appeared, this one hitting it's target.

Buried hilt deep in Sam's right shoulder. As the arm dropped, Larry made it to his feet, and scurried off to his car.

Like any injured animal, Larry wanted nothing more than to get away, and lick his wounds. Then he intended on coming back, and wiping every single one of Michael's friends, family, and even acquaintances off the face of the earth.

It was only once he was in his car, and the engine had sprung to life that he noticed Fiona Glenanne crouching next to Michael's body. He grinned, a feeling of pleasure washing over him. He would run the bitch over on his way out, leaving Axe to clear up all the mess.

He watched as she stood, dashing over to Sam's side forcing him to his feet, the pair of them began dragging Michael across the ground.

He noted the anxious looks the two do-gooders were throwing in his direction. The hairs on the back of his neck began to rise, he had missed something, at that moment he noticed a fancy looking biscuit tin peeking out from under the passenger seat. He reacted instantly grabbing the door handle to flee the car as it went.

**BOOM!**


	27. Chapter 27

**Out of the ashes: **

**A/N: Sorry for the delay with this chapter, it was not intentional, just a bit of real life interrupting the flow.**

Chapter twenty seven,

"Sam! Get up, help me with Michael." Fiona seemed to appear out of nowhere, with a gleam in her eye.

In his slightly dazed state it took Sam a moment to realize what she had in her hand. The damn woman had planted her highly unstable IED, and was getting ready to blow Larry out into the Atlantic.

Helping as best he could they started to drag Michael's limp body clear of the blast zone. He glanced over when she stopped moving, noticing how her eyes widened as they both heard the audible click of a car door being unlatched. Larry must have spotted the device.

"Drop!" She hissed the word out urgently.

Then all hell broke loose. The thunderous explosion hurt their ears, and knocked them flat, falling face down on top of Michael. Flames leapt out in all directions, and pieces of hot smoking debris rained down over them, and on to the pedestrian areas below. Even though they were unable to see the blast they had certainly felt the heat wave that rolled over them, and the blast, which caused the ground to shake under their prone bodies.

For one horrible moment Sam thought Fiona's bomb might cause the whole structure to collapse. _'I should have made her throw that damn concoction away.' _He muttered under his breath as his ears continued to ring. That was when the second smaller explosion of the gas tank went off sending them back down on to the ground.

As soon as it was safe Fiona got to her feet, her eyes desperately scanning the car, and the area around it. Flames raged throughout the interior of the vehicle making it impossible to see if anybody had been inside. With a rapidly beating heart she got as close to the car as she dared, the heat so intense it was impossible for her to peer directly inside. Unable to make out any human remains she let out a groan of frustration.

But even without a body, experience told her Larry had to be dead. She had looked him in the eye before pushing Sam down, and pressing the trigger. The car door had been shut, he hadn't had enough time to get out, _he had to be dead. _ The blast, and heat must have incinerated the body that was all.

While Fiona was surveying the wreckage, Sam had managed to push himself upright, the knife embedded in his shoulder was still in place, the throbbing pain reminding him of all the things he didn't miss about being retired. His other arm had stopped bleeding but that was mostly because the cut was now filled with fine concrete dust.

He checked Michael over again, a worried frown forming, the younger man should have woken up by now. His gaze moved to where Fiona stood admiring her handiwork. He watched as she hugged herself, a dreamy smile lighting up her face, the flames highlighting the shine in her eyes. It had been a long time since he had thought of her as his friend's mad bomber girlfriend, whatever Larry had done to her must have been bad.

A soft groan alerted Sam to Michael regaining consciousness. He came back fighting, a fist swinging out as he jerked into a sitting position. His legs pumping as he tried to get to his feet.

"Hey Mikey, I'm glad you're back with us brother, now just calm down please." Michael's uncoordinated punch had missed him, and now he watched as his friend swayed, and stared around wildly.

"FI!" Sam called out, as a clearly disorientated Michael fell back to the ground.

"Hey take it easy." Sam tried to calm his friend. "That was some bang to the head you took."

"What happened? Where's Larry?" Michael asked, he was still staring around trying to get his bearings.

"Larry's gone, he was in that." Sam nodded to the wrecked car. "How are you feeling, you were out for a good five minutes."

"I'm fine." Michael muttered, attempting to get to his feet again but failing miserably.

Realizing that for now he was going to have to remain sat down, Michael turned his attention back to the scene before him. "What?" He waved a hand in the general direction of the car.

"Oh me, and Lare finally got a chance to settle our differences, right up to the point where Fiona blew him up." Sam answered offhandedly.

"Where's Larry? We should.." Fiona squatted in front of him, taking hold of his chin in her hand forcing him to focus.

"Larry's gone." Fiona spoke slowly, her eyes fixed on his, trying to make him understand. "He is never going to interfere in our lives again."

Sam watched as they stared into each others eyes, Michael losing the dazed, and confused look as she willed him to pay attention. He hated to interrupt them having a moment, but in the distance the sound of sirens was getting ever closer, and decisions had to be made.

"Fi." Sam spoke quietly. "We're both due a visit to the ER. Cops, and every branch of law enforcement are going to be here soon asking a lot of questions. You need to leave, I'll watch Mike."

"No." Michael groaned, trying to push himself back onto his feet. "No hospital."

"Not your decision brother." Sam answered. "You can't walk a straight line, and I can't carry you." He slipped the charger's keys into her hand.

"Fi." Michael pleaded reaching out for her, but she backed away.

"I had best get going." She spoke quietly, before turning away.

"Fiona!" Michael called out.

But she broke into a run as a helicopter came overhead, seeking shelter in the stairwell.

"Sit down before you fall down, and tell me what you've done." Sam demanded, his own energy levels sapped from the blood loss, and pain.

Michael looked down, and then back at the still burning car, in fact he looked everywhere but at his friend. Doing his best to hide the guilt he was feeling.

"I know a few things about the ladies Mike, and I can tell you, you can't keep acting the way you are, and expect her to hang around." Sam commented.

"I don't want to talk about it." Michael snapped, before turning to stare at the circle of light that was descending over them.

Helicopters were directly overhead, their spotlights centred over Michael, and Sam's positions. Both men sat still obeying the commands being shouted down to them.

"So what's the story. Mikey?" Sam asked.

The police sirens could be heard approaching the top level they didn't have a lot of time to come up with a reasonable explanation to what had happened.

"Was Larry definitely in there?" Michael was still having difficulty believing Larry was dead.

"I can't see how he could have got out."

"Ok, you were mugged and we chased the mugger up here and his car just exploded."

"That's thin, Mikey." Sam criticized.

Michael's eyes slid shut for a moment. "Let them prove us wrong." He replied just as the first vehicles came into sight.

()()()

"Director Raines you have a phone call from Jackson Memorial Hospital regarding Michael Westen." Raines went from sleep to being fully awake in an instant. All thoughts of blasting the communications officer for waking him gone.

"Put the call through." He sat up in bed, checking the time on the bedside clock.

"Donald Raines?" The speaker had a smooth slightly condescending tone to his voice.

"Who is this?" He demanded angrily.

"Doctor Anson Fullerton, I'm the chief clinical psychiatrist for the DIA. I was called into Jackson Memorial to deal with a patient, when two men were brought in from the scene of a car bombing. Michael Westen, burnt spy now working as an unofficial..."

"You have my attention Fullerton. How bad are we talking here?" Raines was out of bed holding the phone to his ear while searching for his clothes.

"There are various branches of law enforcement waiting to talk to your man. I took the liberty of requesting his medical records, you have him on a very interesting drug regime."

"That is none of your business Doctor." Raines replied coldly, before continuing. "How is he? And what happened?"

"Reports are still coming in, there was an explosion next to the St Regis hotel. If I was you I'd get my own men over here as quickly as possible. To do a bit of damage control. Homeland Security are already taking an interest."

Dressed, and after motioning to his wife that he had to leave Raines headed downstairs.

"You're being very helpful Anson." He recognized the name now from his research on Management's organization. From what he could remember Fullerton had been the psychiatrist that had interviewed Management before his retirement.

"Oh, I'm just doing my job. I take it you'll be in Miami on the next available flight?"

"You guess right, now how badly hurt is my man?" He could hear the sound of computer keys being tapped.

"Everything looks good if he is allowed plenty of rest. In six months I would expect him be back fit to work." Anson paused. "But you're not going to do that are you. When you get here we need to have a long talk. I'll keep him away from outside influences until you arrive."

"Who are you exactly." Raines replied.

"You're an intelligent man, I'm sure by the time you arrive in Miami you'll have worked it out for yourself."

Raines looked at his phone, as if he expected it to give him all the answers. This man Fullerton was obviously one of Managements old team, and he appeared to be friendly. As he got into his car he called his secretary's personal number.

"Cara, get me on the first available flight to Miami. Also find out all you can about a DIA psychiatrist Anson Fullerton send it straight over to my phone." He hung up the call knowing his hard working secretary would have everything sorted out for him by the time he arrived at the airport.

()()()

Staying in the shadows, and avoiding law enforcement was second nature to Fiona. She was outside mingling with the crowd of on lookers before the police helicopters had began circling above. Keeping her head down she made her way over to where Sam had parked the charger.

Once safely out of sight, she watched as two of the ambulances that had gone inside the parking garage came out, rushing away with a police escort. For a moment she considered following them, so she could sneak inside, and be back at Michael's side. Then she squashed the urge, shutting her eyes tight until the sound of sirens had faded into the distance.

They could not carrying on the way they were, Michael was getting worse not better. Finally admitting that fact, tore at her heart. Because she knew deep down, as long as she was there to pick up the pieces, he would not get the help he needed. The only thing she could do for him now was leave, and hope that it would force him to seek help.

And if leaving for a few days didn't work? Well, then she would know he had made his choice, and it would be up to her to decide if she could live with the man he was becoming.

Pulling out her phone she dialled an old friend, Dougie a fellow gun runner who with his father kept a couple of boats.

"Dougie I need to take a trip somewhere warm with a nice beach." She spoke with forced cheerfulness.

"I've got a boat going out to Grand Cayman in an hour. If that's any good for you?" Dougie replied, unfazed by a friend asking for help to flee the country at short notice.

"I'm on my way." She ended the call, angrily wiping away an errant tear. This was for the best, she would be long gone before he got home from the hospital. No chance of him talking her into staying.

Starting up the charger's engine she drove back to the loft, speeding along the deserted roads. Her hands trembled on the steering wheel, and she kept sniffing determined not to cry. She was doing this for them, she had to trust that however messed up in the head he was right now. That Michael would make the right choice.

With a weary sigh she stepped into the loft, switching on the light to stare at the near empty space Michael called home. Sadness settled over her heart as she remembered the fight before he had stormed out. Fingers gently touched her sore, and swollen jaw, tracing the outline of where his fist had connected with her face. The blow had been vicious, totally unexpected and had forced her to realize how bad things had become.

This was getting her nowhere, with a huff she quickly packed her case, and prepared to leave. It was then she spotted Michael's bag where he had dropped it on the floor. Her eyes narrowed on the object, and she quickly searched through the the various compartments until she found the three little bottles containing the medication Raines' doctor had prescribed.

Holding up each bottle up in turn she became more suspicious when she realized none of them was labelled. Going into the kitchen she found a freezer bag, and took one pill from each bottle, dropping them into the bag. If he wouldn't investigate what they were feeding him she would.

Now came the hard part, she hesitated. Just for a second thinking about taking the cowards way out. With an angry shake of her head she picked up a pen, and sheet of paper. This was something he had never done for her.

_Michael, _

_we can't carry on like this. Use this time to decide what you want._

_Fi. _

She placed the note on the bed, and hoped it would be enough to make him see sense, to get treatment and come back to them.

Quickly, before she could change her mind she picked up her suitcase dragging it down the steps. Back in the charger she headed towards an out of the way harbour on the Miami river.

Pulling up in the darkness Fiona ignored the two heavily armed men who approached the charger, instead she strolled towards the tall slightly stooped shape ambling behind the guards.

"Dougie." She greeted the man, trying her best at a welcoming smile.

"What you waiting for boys." Dougie spoke to his men. "You never seen Fiona Glenanne before. Take the lady's bags and put them on the boat."

As the guards loaded her bags Dougie handed her a large paper bag full of money. "That shipment of M40's you put my way. Well I got top dollar for them, this is your cut."

"Thanks, I'm going to need it." She was grateful for the darkness. Nobody could see her face, and ask uncomfortable questions. "Do you think you can find out what these are for me?" She handed the bag of pills over.

Dougie held the bag up, looking at contents. "Sure thing, Fi."

"Oh if anyone asks after me, and I mean _anyone _you don't know anything ok?" She started walking towards the waiting boat, unsure how long she could hold herself together.

"Boyfriend problems?" He backed up at the look he received. "Ooo-kay, sorry I asked."

As the cigarette boat left a deserted harbour Fiona settled down to sleep on top of her bags surrounded by boxes of weapons, the smell of gun oil soothing her senses. She hoped she was doing the right thing, and her leaving would be enough to bring Michael back to his senses.

()()()

At the hospital Michael took full advantage of his head injury, feigning memory loss he managed to avoid giving a single straightforward answer to the questions fired in his direction. The unfortunate side effect was they gave him an MRI scan, and then insisted on keeping him in for observation. He was desperate to get to Fiona, there had been something in her expression that had him worried.

If he could have sneaked out, he would have but the corridors were full of cops, and the nurse who had come to settle him in a bed for the night had taken his clothes. Laying back on the bed he fought to stay awake but it was a battle he wasn't going to win. Exhaustion took over, and within minutes he was asleep, not even stirring when the nurse returned several times in the night to check his vitals.

In the morning Michael woke up to discover a man dressed in a doctors coat stood over him, reading off a clipboard.

"I'm the Defense Intelligence Agency doctor assigned to your case Mr Westen." The man spoke in a bored tone, not even looking up.

Hearing that the man was a DIA doctor Michael sat up quickly. Anxiety levels rising rapidly as he wondered why military intelligence was interested in him.

Eventually the man stopped what he was doing, and fixed Michael with a faintly amused expression. "Don't look so worried Michael. My name is Dr Anson Fullerton, Director Raines asked me to come down here, and see to your release." He handed Michael his clothes.

"What is a DIA doctor doing in charge of my case? I've not been in the military for years." Michael asked as he started to get dressed.

"I deal with agents from all the various intelligence agencies. You should have identified yourself to the staff, and I would have been here much earlier." He answered, a small smirk curving up the corners of his mouth. "How are you feeling now?"

"Fine." Michael replied shortly. "How's Sam Axe, he came in at the same time as..."

"He under went surgery to remove a knife from his shoulder, and I believe he will be discharged later today. Now how about you. Any headache, blurred vision, nausea?"

Michael shook his head, Sam was going to be ok. All he wanted to do was get back to the loft, and Fiona.

"I'm going to release you to rest. I understand you were meant to working a mission tonight. I'm going to suggest if it is essential that you take part, it doesn't happen until tomorrow."

Michael was dressed and eager to leave. "So I can leave?"

"Yes Michael but you'll get an escort back to your home, and you'll be expected to stay there. I believe Director Raines might want to talk to you later. Regarding the incident."

"Can I go see Sam first?"

Anson shook his head. "I'm sorry Mr Axe is resting, and your escort is waiting."


	28. Chapter 28

**Out of the ashes.**

Chapter twenty eight,

Sam unwillingly drifted back to consciousness, his mind cocooned in the soft warmth of painkilling drugs. He could hear Elsa's voice muffled and indistinct at first but becoming clearer. He frowned, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.

"Ma'am, there is no need to bring in your own doctors. The surgery was a success, Mr Axe will probably be released after a few more tests."

Sam recognized the exasperated tones of a man trying to reason with Elsa Dearbon when she wanted something done now. Big Momma did not like to be kept waiting.

"Didn't you hear what that nice Doctor Fullerton said? This man is a _hero_!"

Sam's eyes flew open at this dramatic statement. He listened as she continued her rant. "He risked his own life stopping a lunatic with a bomb. He should be receiving the very best care... _Oh Sammy! _You're awake." She fairly flew to his bedside, dropping into the chair next to the bed, her fingers becoming entwined with his own.

"Hey pumpkin." He rasped, his throat felt dry and sore. "What's going on?"

Sam's last memories were of being wheeled through into an operating theatre. Before that he had been on the roof of a parking garage having survived being stabbed by Larry Sizemore, and nearly being blown to bits by Fiona's home made bomb.

Elsa sniffed delicately, her blue eyes tearing up with emotion. Trailing a long slender finger over his stubble covered cheek, she spoke softly. "I was so scared, why didn't you tell me you worked for the government?" She sniffed again. "When two men turned up at Imelda's door this morning saying they were from the CIA, I thought those friends of yours had gotten you into more trouble. But they told me what you had done, how brave you had been." She lay a gentle kiss on his forehead, a beaming smile on her face mixed with obvious pride.

"Yeah er right." He muttered, embarrassed by all the attention and more than a little confused. "So what's the damage." He turned to the nervous looking junior doctor standing beside Rita, Elsa's PA.

The man cleared his throat, and shot Elsa a look before answering. "You were lucky Mr Axe, no serious damage done. With the knife removed it was just a case of cleaning out the wounds, and stitching you back up. We need to take some blood, check your stitches, and then you should be free to go home to recuperate."

Sam breathed a sigh of relief, he opened his mouth to ask about Michael but was cut off by Elsa. Who was staring at the doctor.

"Well, get the tests done." She snapped, before turning to Rita. "Rita would you call Doctor Samuels tell him to come out to the hotel. Then cancel my appointments for the next two days." She gazed back at Sam. "I'm going to be keeping my eye on you mister, no more running off with those friends of yours until you're fully healed this time."

"Sure thing, Big Momma whatever you say." He patted her hand. "Say Doc. The man I came in with. He had a head injury how is he?"

"Mister Westen was discharged an hour ago, by a DIA specialist." The young doctor answered, already half way out of the door before the crazed woman in the designer dress, could set about him again.

Sam nodded, his eyes already closing. Michael was obviously well enough to go home and was probably making up with Fiona by now. Or that's what he hoped. There had been something troubling about how Fi hadn't argued about leaving, or looked back before she ran off. His thoughts got no further as the soothing sensation of Elsa gently stroking his brow sent him off to sleep.

()()()

Michael rested his head back, staring up at the ceiling of the sedan car that was taking him home. The monotonous drone of the engine was setting his teeth on edge, each pause on the congested streets causing more tension to knot his muscles. Making the journey back to the loft feel like slow torture.

With a sigh, he dropped his gaze to stare at his phone, turning the piece of electronics, and plastic over, and over in his hands willing it to ring. Fiona hadn't answered his call, or the two voice mails he had sent to her phone. If he had been allowed to leave when he had wanted, he would have already been home.

At first he had been very grateful to the the DIA doctor for fast tracking his discharge. But that feeling of gratitude quickly turned to frustration when the man informed him Director Raines wanted him escorted home, and he wasn't getting his phone back until the car arrived. It had taken all his remaining self control not to throw the man out of the hospital window, as he had apologized profusely for the delay. When the words 'but orders are orders' passed his lips, Michael had turned away his hands balling into fists.

Finally though they were driving alongside the canal. Sitting forward Michael curled his fingers around the door handle eagerly awaiting the welcoming sight of Oleg's nightclub, and the loft. As soon as the vehicle came to a halt he was out of the door, and striding towards the tall metal gates that would lead him back to Fiona.

Swinging open the gate the first thing he noticed was Max lounging against the the steps. "About time, I've been.." The CIA agent began to straighten up.

"What are you doing here?" Michael growled.

"We have a job to do." Max answered smoothly. "Raines told me to meet both of you here." He glanced at his watch. "In fifteen minutes time."

Michael's eyes flickered from Max, to the space where the charger should be parked. The nagging fear that she had left, seemed to be confirmed. A feeling of nausea nearly overwhelmed him, as he pushed passed Max, and ran up the steps.

Flinging the door open he came to an abrupt halt, his eyes flickering over the whole room searching for a sign that he was overreacting. That the car was missing because she had just gone on an errand. But that small slither of hope fled when he saw the note resting on his pillow.

Crossing the room in a couple of strides, Michael snatched up the neatly folded piece of paper. His chest tightened, and his hands shook as he read the words. _We can't carry on like this. _She had left. _Use this time to decide what you want._ But she promised to come back.

Crumpling the piece of paper up in his hand he stood for a moment trying to gain a margin of control. The longer she stayed away, the more time she would have to decide he wasn't worth saving. He had to get her back now.

Heading towards the door Michael barely registered Max's existence until the man blocked his exit. "Raines is going to be here soon, whatever is going on between you, and the girlfriend will have to wait." Max stood his ground as he stared into murderous blue eyes. The look he was receiving reminding him about what he had read about Michael's time in Russia.

"Get. Out. Of. My. way." Michael slowly enunciated each word.

"The director seems to have a soft spot for you Westen, but I get the impression the good will is wearing thin. If you're not here when he arrives. I imagine you'll end up back out in the cold, explaining to the FBI why there was a car bomb planted in Bal Harbour."

With a snarl of frustration Michael spun away to slam his palms down on the work top, he stayed there with his head bowed. Trying to think of all the places she might go, and the names of all her smuggler contacts who might help her hide. He was so wrapped up in his own anger he didn't realize Raines had entered the room until the man spoke.

"Michael what part of low profile don't you understand." Raines demanded, pushing his way passed Max. "Do you have any idea of the favours I've had to call in to keep this mess quiet. You're a breath away from a lengthy stay in a federal prison."

"None of that was my doing. It was Larry, he.." He took a breath, biting down on his lip, reining in his temper as it was about to be unleashed. "Has his, has Larry's body been identified?" He changed his tone, forcing knotted muscles to relax.

"Everything in the car was destroyed, completely burnt out. The feds are running forensic tests. By the way where is Miss Glenanne?" Raines hid his satisfaction as he realized he had succeeded where Larry had always failed. He had managed to isolate Michael from his friends, with Fiona gone, and Sam Axe settled in with a wealthy sugar mommy Michael was alone.

"Gone, Larry came here while I was in DC he had confidential files, he filled her head with lies, and now she's left me. I want her back Raines. I have to know she's safe."

"Well I want you to concentrate on your job. I've invested a lot of time, and my reputation in helping you find a way back in. So pull yourself together, and get prepared to work." Raines turned to Max. "Bring him up to speed."

"Raines, I have to know she's safe can't you..?" Michael caught hold of Raines arm pulling him back round to face him.

Raines jerked his arm free. "Thanks to Miss Glenanne's firework display, I've got a full day of damage control. So no, I can't help you find out where she is hiding. To be honest it would be in your best interests if she stayed hidden." Raines snapped, before marching outside, and back to his car.

Max lent back against the steel door effectively keeping Michael's inside the building. He waited patiently for the younger man to stop pacing, and slump down onto the bed, his head resting in his hands. Only then did he relax, and begin to explain their mission.

"Two nights ago at a Nuclear energy conference at the Eden Roc hotel a hotshot British engineer named Carson Huxley, sneaked away from the team babysitting him, and was compromised by a female agent employed by a European consortium." Max paused, unsure if Michael was listening to him or not. With a shrug he continued.

"This man is a very valuable asset, he has the IQ of a rocket scientist, and access to all the digitally encrypted codes for our energy research laboratories. He is meant to be meeting with the blackmailer later on today, we are going to follow the operative back to wherever they have stashed the evidence of our man Huxley's indiscretion. Retrieve said evidence, and deliver the operative to the proper authorities."

"Sounds simple enough." Michael muttered his head buried in his hands. The last thing he wanted to do was this job. He should be out scouring the streets looking for Fiona. Without thinking about it he picked up his phone dialling Seymour's number the neurotic arms dealer should have some idea where Fiona would hide.

The phone rung twice, and then went to voice mail, the weasel was dodging his call. "Seymour, I want to know where Fiona's gone. Don't make me come looking for you."

Max listened to Michael's thinly veiled threat to whoever was on the other end of the phone. In his mind he tried to work out what Raines was gaining by keeping Westen in the field. The man was obviously unstable, and dangerous.

Michael had his phone up to his ear again. "Fi, Fiona please just talk to me. Let me know your ok. I'm sorry." Ending the call, he threw the phone down next to him. If she wouldn't even answer his calls what chance was there she would come back.

Max was beginning to feel uncomfortable watching Michael's breakdown. He had enough problems of his own, trying to work out who he could trust without the stress of babysitting Raines favourtie new pet. Taking a deep breath, he came to the conclusion there was only one way he was going to get Westen to concentrate. He stepped in front of the bed.

"Look, I get it, you feel bad, but we have job to do. So how about you focus long enough to complete the job, then I'll help you track your girlfriend down. However you've got to promise when we find her you listen to what she has to say, and if she wants you to leave, you leave."

Michael looked up, his mouth opening and closing, with a protest on his lips but then he nodded his head in agreement. If he found her, if he could hold her in his arms he could make her forgive him.

()()()

The Margarita was a busy, vibrant Cuban restaurant on Biscayne boulevard. During the lunchtime rush every table was taken up, and space at the bar was crowded. With noise levels so high it would be impossible to eavesdrop without being obvious. It was the perfect venue for a meeting between individuals who wanted privacy to talk, but the security of a crowd.

Raines, and Anson Fullerton faced each other over a table at the back of the restaurant. Each wary of the other, two predators trying to work out a way of working together.

After receiving cups of coffee and a plate of honeyed almond cakes Anson pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, and then relaxed back in his chair.

"So let's do this." He spoke confidently, as if he already knew all the answers. "Tell me, what exactly are your expectations here? How do you see this meeting ending?"

Raines smiled, all teeth and fake charm. Taking in every detail of the man before him. Guessing Anson Fullerton was used to being the most intelligent person in the room.

"I _expect _you to answer my questions, and at the end of this meeting I _see_ myself walking out of this place, _you _though I'm not so sure about." Raines replied easily.

"Really, that's interesting." Anson made eye contact a confident smirk curling up the sides of his mouth. "Because your personnel file states that you're a tactician, not a fighter, preferring to outsource if there is a chance of blood."

"And what sort of man are you, Anson?" Raines hardened his tone, this guy was beginning to give him the creeps.

"Why don't _you_ tell _me_ Donald?" Anson countered, regarding the CIA director over the rim of his steaming cup of coffee.

"You're the man that along with Devereux, and Vaughn ran an unauthorized black ops agency." Raines replied. "My guess is that when you gave Devereux his psyche eval before his retirement, the pair of you came up with the idea. Vaughn was one of his junior agents at the time, and was recruited early on. How am I doing?"

Anson inclined his head, he had been right this man had possibilities. A sharp mind, and a streak of ruthlessness. Years ago only his distaste for getting his own hands dirty had stopped his recruitment into their group, instead they had burnt Vaughn has he had no qualms about getting bloody.

"And you're the man planning a hostile takeover of my agency." Anson answered.

"Oh the takeover is well passed the planning stage. Thanks to Michael Westen there is very little left. We've almost torn the whole thing down. But you could be a very valuable asset Anson, if.." Raines stopped when the other man raised a hand to stop his words.

"Partner, Donald. Partnership sounds so much better, and it is not open to negotiation."

"I have the list."

"You have the list, but it doesn't have all the names now does it? I mean until now you didn't know about me. I have the contacts you need, and the expertise necessary for it all to become a success again." Anson lent forward, his moustache seemed to bristle. "And let's be clear you don't need enemies at this delicate time Raines."

They both regarded each other with hostility. "I make the decisions on missions we take on." Raines demanded.

"Well then." Anson raised his coffee cup in a toast. "To the new Management."

It was Raines turn to incline his head in acceptance. "Now what did you want to tell me about Michael?"

"Ah, Michael. Do you realize you have undone four years of painstaking work?" Anson spoke bluntly. Smiling at the look of outrage which appeared on the others face. "We spent a great deal of time, and money getting him to reconnect with his family, and make solid relationships. To give us a measure of control, we needed him to care about others more than himself."

"He was thinking of giving up, settling into civilian life. Those relationships were going to take him out of the game." Raines argued.

"And on the medication regime you put him on there is a very good chance he will end up psychotic. And believe me that is the last thing you want in an agent. You might as well send him off to Guantamano now."

"It was a short term solution, I needed to control him."

"Well pretty soon you'll lose control, and he'll go BOOM" he gestured with his hands. "At this stage of our partnership we do not need another Simon Escher."

"So what is your suggestion." Raines demanded. He wasn't sure how long he was going to be able to work with this supercilious piece of slime before putting a bullet in his head.

()()()

Max sat in a chair watching with some amusement as Michael tried to explain the situation to a freaked out nuclear scientist.

"Now it's not difficult." Michael smiled, Max could tell he was going for a reassuring look. But Michael was tense, and his toothy expression was frankly scaring the man they were meant to be protecting.

"You go to the meeting. You give them what they want, and then you leave." Michael stood in front of Huxley, and gave the man's arms a friendly squeeze, he was attempting to foster a feeling of trust. Instead Huxley cringed out of the grip and backed away.

"But what if..." Huxley stuttered.

"No what ifs. You just do what we've told you, and everything will be fine." Max got to his feet, believing Michael might actually strangle their asset if he didn't intervene.

"It's going to be fine, honestly. We'll be watching, nothing can go wrong." Max wrapped an arm around the man's shoulder, and walked him away from Michael and out of the hotel room. "Now you go down to the bar, and we'll be watching." He patted Huxley on the back, and sent him on his way.

As they watched the man hurry along the corridor, Max glared at Michael. "You need to work on your people skills." He commented.

Fifteen minutes later Max sauntered down to the bar, finding Michael sat on a stool his eyes firmly fixed on where Huxley sat at a table, nervously gulping down a drink.

"So how's our boy doing." Max asked sliding into a seat next to Michael's.

"On his third Rum and Coke." Came the sour reply.

Max glanced at Michael's expression. "O- oh someone has the thousand yard stare. What is it?"

"Larry fed Fiona a lot of classified information he shouldn't have been able to get hold off. I think.."

At the mention of Fiona's name Max held up a hand stopping Michael's words. "Not now Michael, I said I would help with your girlfriend after this job is … Hello looks like Huxley has company."

He nodded towards a tall willowy blond who took a seat opposite the engineer, her dazzling smile at odds with Huxley's worried grimace.

"At least the blond seems to have scared Huxley into celibacy, he was on the phone to his wife for an hour earlier on. It should make watching him a lot easier for the next team to get the job." Max commented, as they observed the man hand over a drive containing his companies latest research, before almost bolting out of the bar.

Michael glanced at his watch, as the blond got to her feet and got ready to leave. "We could just go over there, and get her to take us to the evidence." Michael growled.

"Remember we're meant to be a _secret_ agents. For the the sake of my marriage, I'd like to stay clear of an international incidence. My wife would hate a posting to Siberia."

"Fine. What would you like me to do now, senior agent in charge?" Michael asked.

"I'll go calm down the mad scientist, while you follow the bad guy, sorry bad gal back to her lair." He patted Michael on the back. "Remember just follow, we go in together."

The blond led him to Golden sands motel where she went into a second floor room. Michael waited to make sure that the motel wasn't just a stop on the way to somewhere else, and then rang Max.

Micheal glanced across when the other man joined him. "Well Huxley is locked in his room with a bottle of Captain Morgan. So how do you figure we check she's not already passed the evidence on?"

Michael shut his eyes, his fingers massaging his temples. "You want to search her room?"

"We need to get her out first, any ideas on how to do that?" Max was enjoying himself, making Michael work out the plan helped to keep his mind off Fiona Glenanne. It also gave him a chance to really assess if Michael was somebody he could trust.

"I'll have her out in ten minutes." Michael opened his eyes.

"Hey! What are you going to... Damn." Max watched as Michael sprinted across the parking lot.

Five minutes later there was a loud crash, and grinding of metal. Max stood up and looked across to where an old pick up truck had just smashed into a blue Mercedes. "Crazy." Max muttered, as the Mercedes alarm set off wailing and people came running out to see what had happened.

Another minute passed and they watched as the blond haired woman came rushing out of her room to find her car completely wrecked. "We should get in there and find the photographs and get that drive back, before she spots us."

An hour later they were back in Max's temporary office, the evidence of the scientist's indiscretion now in Max's safe, along with the drive containing Huxley's research. "You did well today, I'm was impressed." Max gave praise when he thought it was due. " I should go let Huxley know his marriage is safe, and make sure he doesn't need a stomach pump."

"You promised to help me find Fiona." Michael caught hold of his arm.

"And I will but let's tie up all the loose ends here first." Max replied.

"No. You can put a trace on her cell, if she switches it on. I have the number.."

Max tore his arm free, things had been going so well. He had been on the point of bringing up the subject of Raines relationship with Larry, and Devereux. "I said later." He spoke more firmly. "Go back to the loft and wait for me there."

Michael spun away, heading for the door. "Go to hell, I'll find her myself." He left the office, slamming the door shut behind him. Several people in nearby offices looked up as he marched towards the elevators. He nearly knocked a maintenance man over on the way.

Correcting himself from where he had stumbled, Michael noticed that the security cameras were off. He paused, looking back the way he had just came. The maintenance worker was no where in sight, and Max's office door was open.

Cursing Michael sprinted back, skidding to a halt at the office door. Max lay on the floor in a pool of blood. The wooden handle of a knife sticking out of his back.


	29. Chapter 29

**Out of the ashes:**

Chapter twenty nine,

Though she always claimed she loved the luxury, and decadence of staying in first class accommodation, truth be told under normal circumstances Fiona despised wasting her precious time, laying motionless under cloudless skies, soaking up rays of sunshine.

Too much downtime found her muscles aching for action. Her mind, desperately seeking some form of entertainment, and her fingers itching to cause some mayhem. Beaches were for clandestine gun deals in the middle of the night, not for lounging on for hours at a time motionless.

But after a midnight boat ride hidden amongst a stash of smuggled guns, she had needed to feel the sun on her body. A gentle breeze helping to relax muscles that she hadn't even realized were taunt. She thought that at least for a while she would enjoy playing at being an ordinary tourist.

Her phone, began to vibrate again. Creasing her brow, she reached down to where her bag lay under the sun lounger. It had been the same thing all day, ever since Michael realized she had gone. She checked out the latest list of associates, to complain to her about Michael.

"_Fiona. You know I think of you as a sister right. But Mike has threatened to kill me if I don't give him access to your accounts." _Barry nasal whine came out of the speaker on Fiona's phone.

"_Fi, baby. What's going on? Michael has some seriously bad mojo going on. He says he's going to burn my warehouses to the ground if I don't tell him where you're hiding."_ Michael had got to Seymour as well.

"_Hey sweetie it's Dougie. Your man has made it clear he is coming for answers. We've still got his car, you mind if I dump it some place away from me?"_

"_I hope the pair of you not answering your calls means things are back to normal. When you surface, one of you better give me a call." _ So Michael hadn't told Sam she had gone.

She continued to scroll down the list of voice mails, Michael it seemed was working his way through every criminal in Miami. She turned her attention to the messages he had left her, all were pleas for her to comeback, to talk to him to tell him she was safe. He sounded so lost, but she harden her heart. She wasn't going back until he actually made some effort to make a change.

A shadow fell over her, blocking out the sun. Looking up she expected to see a waiter instead she gazed up at two men dressed in suits, and sun glasses one stood on each side of her lounger.

"Now be a good girl Miss Glenanne, and come with us." She felt a chill at the harsh London accent, her heart rate accelerating rapidly.

"I'm quite comfy here thank you." She replied with a smile, while trying to slip a hand under her back where she had secreted her compact pistol.

"If you bring that gun out, I'm going to start shooting darlin' and you don't want that. It would be a shame to ruin all these civilians holidays."

She glanced around, at all the holidaymakers nearby, and realized she had no choice. Bringing out her hand she got to her feet, and watched as the other man picked up her gun, and bag. With one on each side of her, they escorted from the beach, and into a waiting car.

()()()

Michael's knuckles turned white as he gripped the door frame to Max's office. His eyes were fixed on the blood soaked body laying on the floor. A faint moan from the stricken man, had Michael cautiously entering the room. There had been no sign of the assassin outside in the corridor, which meant it was possible he was still hiding inside the room. But unbelievably Max was still alive, and in dire need of help.

"Hey, Max hold on, I'll get help." Michael knelt down, while desperately fumbling for his phone.

Feeling the comforting presence of a friend, Max opened pain filled eyes, his breath coming in short rapid gasps as blood bubbled from between his grey lips. He reached for Michael's arm with a feebly pawing hand. He knew he was dying, and even as the darkness was closing in he had to try to pass on a warning.

"M-my wife.." His voice little more than a whisper. Swallowing he tried to continue. "My wife, go see my wife. Tell her.." He grasped at Michael's arm fighting to finish his last words, but to no avail, as with a final shuddering breath, his body went limp.

Gently Michael laid his hand on Max's forehead before drawing his hand downwards closing the fallen man's eyes. With a sigh he sat back on his heels, when a woman's scream brought him to his feet. Spinning round he found himself facing a scared office worker who stared back at him in horror before fleeing down the corridor yelling for help.

"It's not.." He tried to explain, but then he caught sight of his reflection in the glass door of the office opposite, and saw the blood that coated his hands, and pant legs.

It was then, that Max's killer sprung from his hiding place, barging passed Michael, and along the corridor. Michael instantly gave chase, the man was incredibly fast on his feet. Before Michael could reach him he had crashed through a fire exit setting off the alarms. Following close on the man's heels Michael raced down the staircase desperately trying to close the gap. Ignoring the shouts to stop coming from the security guards who had turned up to investigate the woman's screams.

Finally he burst out on to the street, squinting in the early evening sunshine. Only to catch a brief glimpse of a car's brake lights disappearing around the corner. The killer must have had a car, and driver waiting for him. Falling back against the wall, Michael took several deep shuddering breaths. A sinking feeling settling over him, somebody had set him up for Max's murder, and he had fallen for it.

_There is nothing worse than knowing you've been set up, and having no idea whose behind it all. Because it is not the enemy you see coming that gets you in the end._

"Freeze!"

Michael froze, the feeling of hard metal being pushed into his side causing him to tense.

"Put your hands up." He could hear the fear in the security guard's voice, and feel the fear in the way the gun barrel shook against his side.

Acting with brutal speed and efficiency, Michael spun round smashing the man's gun hand into the wall causing the weapon to drop from nerveless fingers to the ground. Not finished he continued his attack wrapping his hand around the back of the guard's head he slammed it into the wall as hard as he could.

Letting the body fall to the floor he looked up and down the street, pleased that there was no witnesses to the assault. He was relying on purely on the survival instincts drilled in to him by years of military, and government service. After picking up the guard's gun, Michael took a moment to check the man was only stunned before dragging the body behind a row of dumpsters. Stripping off his own bloodstained clothes he swapped them for the guards uniform.

Leaving the man handcuffed to one of the large metal dumpsters, Michael rapidly walked away. Keeping his head down he did his best to fade into the background amongst the other pedestrians. Only when he reached the steps leading to the loft did he feel remotely safe, and that small piece of relief disappeared when he saw the steel re enforced door leading to his home had been opened.

As his eyes flickered around the surrounding are, searching for anybody laying in wait, he was also listening out for any sounds coming from inside the loft. From what he could hear whoever had broken into his home was still in there. Pulling out the gun he had taken off the guard, he steadied himself, and then went through the door fast.

He couldn't believe his eyes, coming to an abrupt halt he stared at Anson Fullerton sat on one of the bar stools resting his back against the counter. Looking totally at home, eating yoghurt.

"What? Doctor Full.." Michael let his hand drop to his side, confusion registering on his face. He had entered the room expecting to face an assassin, not a psychiatrist.

The man waved at him, a welcoming smile on his face. "Call me Anson, come inside, and shut the door we have a lot to discuss." The man spoke in a soft relaxed tone, as if breaking into near strangers homes, and stealing their yoghurt was the way he conducted all his meetings.

Michael carefully closed the door, slipping the gun into the waist band of his pants. After a moments hesitation he went to the fridge to get himself a bottle of water. "Er look this isn't exactly the best time for a visit..." He wanted the man gone as quickly as possible.

"Nonsense this is the perfect time." Anson smiled, turning his laptop round so Michael could see the screen. Michael watched in stunned horror as he realized he was looking at the security footage from Max's office. It showed him arguing with Max the anger plainly visible on his face. The picture wavered, and flickered before the clarity returned, to show him at Max's side as the man died in his arms.

Michael blinked as it all began to sink in. "You! You're.."

"I'm the only one left." Anson confirmed with a smirk.

Michael came round the counter fast, one hand going round Anson's neck as he dragged the man off the chair. The other pulling the gun from his back.

"What are you doing here? Why kill Max?" He pressed the gun under Anson's jaw. His faces inches off the older man's.

"Put that gun down. Unless you want that footage to go straight through to the FBI." Anson ordered. And when Michael didn't comply. "Let me elaborate, put that gun away. Or you, and your friends will end up being locked away for a very long time." All signs of good humour were gone now.

The gun barrel pressed in harder for the merest second but then with a snarl of frustration Michael stepped away.

Anson straightened his shirt, that was close he cursed Raines interference in his carefully laid plans. Thanks to his training in mental health he was accustomed to dealing with violent unpredictable people, but for the most part those people were not trained killers with a personal grudge against him.

"Now remove the clip from your gun, and eject the bullet from the chamber." He read mutiny in Michael's cold expression. "If you won't do it for me. Do it for that woman who discovered you in Max's office. If I'm not out of here safely in the next twenty minutes she is going to be killed, and something that incriminates you will be left near the body."

Michael took another step back, doing as Anson ordered. "Good boy, it's good to know you're capable of following simple instructions. Now, before I explain how much trouble you're in. Hand over your phone."

Dropping Michael's phone into his jacket pocket, Anson returned to the bar stool, and picked up his yoghurt. "That security footage, it's just icing. I know threatening you personally is a useless exercise. But.." He paused, gesturing with the spoon for Michael to sit down too. "Nothing gets your attention like threatening your friends and family."

"This is between you and me, leave them out of it." Michael was still on his feet, his eyes boring into Anson's. His fingers flexing, as he yearned to place them round Anson's scrawny neck, and crush the life out of him.

"No. They're leverage. You see, I knew nobody was guaranteed to bring out the mad bomber in Fiona like Larry, and those mission reports I gave him would send her right off the deep end. Do you know when she last used that same chemical signature in a bomb?" Anson's patient, smug tones were grating on his nerves.

Michael shook his head, but he could guess.

"It was the last bomb she ever made for the IRA, in fact it was the very last thing she ever did for the cause." Michael shut his eyes, how could she have been so reckless. "So you see, if that little piece of information found it's way to British intelligence... And it will, if you don't do everything I tell you to... I doubt she'd make it to trial, what do you think? I mean she made an awful lot of enemies over the years."

Michael sank down onto a chair, his head was reeling as he realized that the man facing him held Fiona's fate in his hands.

"Leave her out of it. I'll do whatever you want." Michael replied sounding defeated.

"She's perfectly safe as long as you behave, and the same goes for Sam Axe."

Michael's head jerked up. "Sam?"

"Now I know we used the threat of him losing his pension to keep you in line before, but it didn't really work did it? This time you mess up, and he'll spend his sunset years in federal prison. Remember that bug of his that Larry had planted in the FBI field office. Well I had a few copies made, at the moment there is one in a department of defense communications office. What do you think the discovery of that will do to your friend?"

"You don't have to do this." Michael replied coldly.

"Yes I do. The fact you haven't shot me proves it." Anson finished his yoghurt, and closed down his laptop. "Oh one more thing if your friends lives aren't enough to keep you in line. You should know your brother Nate has run up almost a hundred thousand dollars worth of debt. At the moment I have arranged for the man who holds that debt to be patient... How do you think your mother would cope if your actions crippled your brother, and ruined his life?"

The ring tone from Michael's phone, interrupted Anson's speech. Looking down at the screen, Anson's smile grew even wider, and he handed the phone back. "You had best answer that. Just remember I'm listening. So keep your mouth shut, and no one needs to get hurt, or in the case of Fiona, deported, and assassinated."

"Hello." He answered flatly.

"Michael. Where are you?" Director Raines demanded.

"Home. At the loft, we completed the mission, and I came home." He lied, trying to ignore Anson who was watching him like a hawk.

"Max is dead. Somebody got into his office, and stabbed him in the back. The feds are there at the moment but we're taking over the investigation. I've a specialist team coming in from Langley in the morning. What happened? Why didn't you go to the office with him?"

Michael sucked in a breath, and closed his eyes. "I was tired, Max told me to go home, and he'd catch up with me tomorrow to write out the report." Lying to Raines was going to cost him whatever credibility he had left. Even if he managed to take Anson Fullerton down, Raines would never forget the lies he was telling now.

"Right, Special Agent Pearce will want to speak to you in the morning. Afterwards I want you to go back to the Jackson Memorial Hospital you have a one o clock appointment with a neurologist. I'll speak to you afterwards."

When the call ended Michael closed his phone, and raised his eyes to stare at Anson. The man was obviously enjoying himself, and there was nothing he could do but go along with what he wanted him to do.

"Well done. But you still have a long way to go before I trust you. For now, just remember you hold your friends, and family lives in your hands."

Michael didn't speak, he watched as Anson walked out, and continued to stand staring off into space. He was under the thumb of the man he hated, and unless he was prepared to see everyone he loved destroyed he had no choice but to do as he was told.

Slowly he made his way over to the work top, picking up the gun he slid the clip back in, and loaded one into the chamber. Walking out onto the balcony, he stared out over the canal his eyes narrowing as he chose a target. Raising his hand he unloaded the gun into a derelict warehouse. Shooting out all the windows, once the gun was empty he threw it with all his might out into the centre of the water. Sinking down onto the ground, with his back against the wall Michael closed his eyes.

()()()

Fiona was scared, but she did her best to hide the fact. Once in the car, handcuffs had been tightened around her wrists, and a bag dropped over her head. She could feel the presence of the men on either side of her, neither spoke so she got no more clues to whose hands she had fallen.

The car journey was short, but it was followed by being forced up metal stairs and on to an aircraft. She flinched as a seatbelt was tightened about her waist, and as the plane took off her mouth went dry. Nobody would be coming to help her, by the time Michael found out where she had gone she would probably be in a shallow grave.

In the end she had to ask, her voice muffled by the head bag. "Who do you work for?" She asked. There was no reply. "Please, where are you taking me?"

"Somebody wants to talk to you, that's all. Just be a good girl now, and shut your mouth." It was the same man who had done the talking at the beach.

Fiona racked her brain, trying to work out who, out of all her enemies had the power to pull off such a well executed extraction. Unfortunately the list was long. Wriggling in the seat she tried to make herself comfortable, she would find a way to escape she always did. The thought helped to comfort her, as she waited to find out how much trouble she was in.

It seemed that they hadn't been airborne long when they started a steep descent. The landing was bumpy, and the plane came to a sudden stop. She guessed they were still in the Caribbean and they hadn't landed on an official runway. Not a good sign.

When the doors opened she was hit by a wave of heat. She accepted help down the steps and was pushed into another car, feeling the welcoming chill of air conditioning. This time the journey lasted several hours, along bumpy unmade roads. The heat and lack of food and drink making her tired and disorientated. At some point she must have fallen asleep, for she woke with start as the bag was jerked off her head.

With the handcuffs removed she got out of the car, wondering what she was going to face. It was not what she expected, she was stood on a small beach surrounded by steep walls. Blinking and shading her eyes she looked around. Noticing the guards stood along the cliff tops above.

"Your bags are inside." The man pointed to a bamboo cottage. "You can do whatever you want, as long as you stay in the cove. Try to leave, and your next accommodation won't be as pleasant."

Before she could ask any questions he left. "Who wants to see me?" She shouted, but got no reply.


	30. Chapter 30

**Out of the Ashes. **

**Thank you Amanda Hawthorn and Daisy Day for reading through part of this chapter for me.  
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Chapter thirty,

_Official agencies have to work within a government budget, you can usually rule out federal involvement when you see pricey antiques and top of the line security precautions._

Fiona looked around her accommodation with a critical eye. The bamboo walls of her new home were in fact well disguised five inch thick re enforced concrete. The windows were fixed with bullet resistant glass. Inside wicker furniture was upholstered with thick comfy looking cushions, and on the glass topped coffee table were a selection of magazines. Vogue, Elle, Marie Claire, Guns and Ammo, Soldier of Fortune.

'Somebody had done their homework,' she thought, as she moved further into the room.

The kitchen was basic, a fridge containing a variety of her favourite foods, and on the granite work top a wine rack holding a selection of expensive wines. This didn't seem like something an enemy would do, this was beginning to feel more like a seduction.

Fiona cautiously opened the only other door, and had her thoughts confirmed. A large four poster bed dominated the room, her suitcases lay on top of the sheets. Sitting down on the mattress she bounced up, and down a couple of times, and brushed a hand over the top sheet. Feeling the luxurious softness of a very high thread count under her hand.

Suddenly she became very aware that all she had on was a skimpy bikini. Unzipping the case nearest to her, she flung lid open, and pulled out a t shirt, and shorts. Quickly getting changed, she headed back outside. Time to do a proper recon before night fall.

Strolling along the beach, she studied the cliff face. Maybe with the right climbing gear she would be able to scale the near vertical slope, that is if it wasn't for the guards patrolling along the top. She stared up at men watching her every move. Confusion clouding her features as she recognized US government issue clothing, and weapons.

Turning to face the sea, Fiona tried to put all the evidence together. High end accommodation, and security, yet the guards were equipment with standard US military weaponry it didn't make sense. The sun was going down, when she turned back toward the cottage. It was then she noticed the lights that had come on, lighting up the whole area. So there would be no seeking away under the cover of darkness.

With a sigh she strolled back inside, for now she was going to have to wait, and see who the mystery kidnapper was, at least for now they didn't appear to want to cause her any harm.

()()()

_As a spy finding out you've been compromised. That someone has something on you is the ultimate nightmare. The worse part for somebody who has been trained to deal with every possible situation, is that when it happens, all you can do is grit your teeth, and wait to find out exactly how bad it's going to become._

Michael was still sat outside when the sun finally went down. He had spent several hours frantically trying to come up with some way to get out from under Anson's thumb. But every idea he came up with, moments later he shot it down. Until he could find something to hold over Anson's head, insubordination was too risky.

It was only when the ringing of his phone broke through his reverie that he got to his feet, and walked back inside. Picking up the phone off the work top he glanced at the ID before accepting the call.

"Hey Sam."

"At last brother. I'm guessing you two have made up." Came Sam's cheery voice.

"What? No Fi's gone. She's left me." Michael admitted. Just thinking about it made him feel sick.

"Jeez Mikey, what did you do?"

Michael licked his lips, half afraid of saying the words out loud. "It doesn't matter, she's gone." He answered, slumping down onto the bed.

Sam was quiet, then when he did speak his voice was full of concern. "Are you ok buddy?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Michael lied.

"Sure, you sound it brother. So what did the Doctors say? Are you ok, you were out for a long time."

"I'm fine, Sam." It suddenly struck him that the whole time he was in hospital Anson had access to his phone. "Look I've got to go. I'll call you later." He hung up before Sam could question him further.

Having ended the call, he got to his feet to look through the drawers under the worktop. Finding a screw driver he opened the back of his phone. It took him less than thirty seconds to find the bug, and a GPS tracker. He stared at the device and for a moment considered destroying it. But instead he put it all back together. There was no telling what Anson might do in retaliation, besides once he got hold of another phone, there was always call forwarding.

()()()

"So is your friend alright?" Elsa slid into bed snuggling against Sam's side.

"I'm not sure." He answered, his mind going over the brief conversation unsure what to make of Michael's brush off.

"Well maybe you should ask that nice Doctor Fullerton to speak to him. I've invited him to lunch tomorrow."

Sam turned her chin so she was looking up at him, he raised an eyebrow wondering why she was inviting a man they had only met for a few minutes over for a meal.

"Oh, he was incredibly understanding while you were in surgery, we had quite a long talk. He, and his wife only moved to Miami a few months ago. I thought it would be a nice gesture to introduce them to a few people."

Sam tried to hide his look of distaste. "So whose coming?"

"Just some friends from the country club Sammy. It's about time you met them as well." She patted his cheek.

Sam managed a half hearted smile. "Wonderful, pumpkin. But don't you think we should put off socializing until." He nodded toward his bandaged shoulder. "You know, I'm healed up."

"Oh you'll be fine, Ray was in the Military he's my friend Cynthia's husband, I'm sure you'll get on and isn't Doctor Fullerton... now what did he say DIA?"

"Department of Defense."

Elsa smiled. "There, I'm sure you'll all get on just fine."

With a sigh Sam settled back, he wasn't going to get out of meeting Elsa's friends so he was just going to have to grin and bare it.

()

The following morning Sam, and Elsa were sat outside eating breakfast in the early morning sunshine on the roof terrace, when they looked across to see Michael striding towards them.

Elsa got to her feet. "Sammy, I have some work to finish, and then we have to get ready for our guests. So don't be too long."

Michael took a seat facing Sam. "She doesn't like me." He commented, as Elsa disappeared inside.

Sam thought his friend looked worn out. He took the phone Michael held out to him.

"What's this?"

Michael stared at the floor. At first Sam didn't think he was going to get an answer.

"We have a couple of new problems. My CIA contact was killed yesterday, and I've been set up for his murder."

"What?" Sam sat upright all signs of relaxation gone.

"Oh that's not the only bad news. Management had a partner, and he's the one whose set me up."

Sam swore under his breath, no wonder his friend looked like he was ready to slit his wrists.

"How do you know, it was an associate of Managements? I mean the CIA have more or less torn the whole thing down" Sam asked.

"He was waiting for me back at the loft. He explained to me how he has evidence that'll put you, and Fi away for a lifetime if I don't do exactly as he says."

Sam felt his blood run cold. "So who is he?"

"There was a DIA doctor at the hos.."

"Fullerton, blond hair, glasses. A bit full of himself?" Sam butted in.

Michael nodded. "He was Management's partner. They set the whole thing up.." Michael stopped again, running his fingers through his hair

"Michael!" Sam snapped. "The guy spent time with Elsa while I was in surgery, he's coming here later on today for lunch with his wife. Sonovabitch has convinced Elsa he's some sort of saint. What are we going to do about him?"

Michael shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I'm going to have to do what he wants, and you're going to have to watch what you say at that luncheon."

"That's it?" Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I've no choice Sam, one wrong move on my part, and you and Fi go to jail and Nate gets his legs broke, and loses his home."

"Nate? What's Nate got to do with this?"

"He's been gambling again, and Anson either holds the debt, or has some sort of hold over the man who does."

"Have you called him, or your Mom? Checked they're ok?"

Michael shook his head. "I don't think I could speak to Nate at the moment."

They sat in silence as Sam realized how bad things were. Suddenly he brightened. "I have an idea who can help us. I doubt Anson knows about him."

Michael gave him a puzzled look.

"Spencer Watkowski, he's still working for that friend of mine with the security company."

"The spies are aliens guy?" Michael pulled a face. "The guy could barely string a sentence together Sam."

"He found you." Sam shot back. "I'll ask him to have a go at hacking the DIA computers see if he can find a way into Anson's personal files." He gave Michael a reassuring smile.

"I don't know, the guy's a nutcase, if Anson finds out what he's doing." Michael wasn't keen on involving anybody else in his troubles.

"Look Spencer is a genius, he's taking his meds, my buddy says there isn't an encryption he hasn't found a way around. And we need some leverage of our own on this guy."

"Ok then." Michael got to his feet, Sam was right, without leverage of their own he would be stuck working for Anson forever.

"Honest Mike this will work." Sam tried to sound positive.

Michael went to speak, but stopped when his phone began to ring. Turning away he took the call.

"Yeah." Sam watched his friends expression as he paced. "In a hour. Fine see you there."

"More bad news?" Sam asked.

"I have to be across town in less than an hour to meet the agent in charge of the investigation into Max's death."

"You should tell Raines what's going on, I mean he might be able to help." Sam urged.

Michael shook his head. "No, if I do anything Anson will take it out on all of you."

"How about Fi. Does she know what's happening?" Michael shook his head. "Well maybe you should tell her."

"No! She'll come back if she finds out. It's better if she stays away. If anything happens to me, at least she'll have head start." Michael knew if she found out what was happening she would come rushing back to help, and he wanted her as far away from Anson as possible. A wave of anxiety suddenly rushed over him making him sway. The thought of her helpless, being dragged off in chains, even if she made back to Britain her enemies would find some way to kill her.

Sam bit his lip, as his friend was beginning to lose his calm. "Whatever you say Mike."

Michael eyed his friend. "I mean it Sam, leave her out of it. I'm going to go, I'm going to keep my distance if you have to contact me use the pre pay phone. Make sure Spencer knows not to take chances."

()()

"Mr Westen. Special agent Kim Pearce." The tall dark haired woman introduced herself as Michael stood in the doorway to Max's office. "Come inside, I have a few questions for you."

Michael edged passed the agent taking finger prints off the door frame, and found his eyes drawn to the large pool of dried blood staining the carpet.

"That's where Max died." Pearce watched him, trying to read something in his carefully arranged neutral expression. "The killer stabbed him in the back, and then knelt down." She pointed to two marks in the blood. "We think he was disturbed trying to retrieve the knife."

Michael turned to face her. "There was a witness?" He asked, trying to hide his concern.

"A typist from the office along the corridor. Unfortunately she has given us three different descriptions, of the man. Still, I'm hoping he didn't have time to wipe down his fingerprints. Here come with me." She led the way out of the office and towards the fire exit. "The security guards chased him along here, and down these steps."

Michael followed her down the steps he had run down less than twenty four hours earlier. He stared at a smeared bloody hand print on the door. "We've got one print at least." She smirked when she saw where he was looking.

Outside she led the way over to a large metal dumpster. "The guard was knocked out, and left here. He was missing his shirt, and pants. I've got men searching every trash bag, and dumpster in the neighbourhood looking for the killers bloody clothes."

"So it looks like you've got the whole thing under control. Why do you need to see me?"

"You're a person of interest. I must admit when I first heard that Max was working with a burnt spy I was ready to fit you with a head bag and cuffs."

"I'm glad you resisted the urge." He smiled at her, he needed this woman on his side.

"Oh don't thank me yet, I didn't think fitting you with a head bag would be a good start to our working relationship."

"You're my new agency contact." He stared at her, wondering how he could use this to his advantage.

"Lucky me." She quipped, and looked back along the street. "There's something you should know about me. I have a reputation for being a bit of a pitbull. Once I get my teeth into a case I don't let go until the bad guy is locked away."

"Good to know." Michael chose to ignore the implied threat, and glanced at his watch instead. "Er I have another appointment."

"At the hospital, I know. Director Raines wants you cleared to work. I'll be in touch with you later, I have some questions about the cases you've been working."

"I've not been working cases. Just, this last one retrieving evidence of a scientist's indiscretion. Small scale stuff."

She pursed her lips, whatever she had wanted to get from their meeting she hadn't got it. "Well don't leave town."

Michael watched her walk away, knowing full well she was going to be trouble.

Agent Pearce had only just disappeared from sight when his phone began to ring. Michael saw the number was withheld and scowled.

"Michael, I want to say thank you. I mean keeping your meeting with Agent Pearce short. You'll have noticed I've taken care of the witness, she was very agreeable in the end. So if you continue to do as you're told I'll make sure that the fingerprint evidence gets lost too."

"What do you want Anson?" Michael demanded.

"I want your complete obedience Michael, and I'm going to get it. Oh I'm having lunch with your friend Sam, in an hour. It would be a shame for such a lovely lady as Elsa Dearbon to get caught up in all this nastiness."

"Anson. Just leave her alone. She's a civilian, she's..."

"She's leverage Michael just like everyone else in your life. We tried to be reasonable with you but you wouldn't listen. So now the kid gloves are off. Behave, and everybody will be fine, protected even. One act of rebellion though, and you'll start losing friends. I'll speak to you later."

()()()

Sam stared at the devious, ferret faced weasel, dressed in a smart suit, and designer glasses, his fingers tightening around the neck of the bottle of beer he held on to.

"Sammy, you remember Doctor Fullerton." Elsa came up to his side, slipping her arm around his back.

"Oh, call me Anson." The man gave Sam a mocking smile, holding out his hand.

"How are you doin' Doc?" Sam bared his teeth as he shook Anson's hand. His smile broadened as the man winced, taking his hand back to rub where Sam had squashed it in his grip.

"Oh Miss Dearbon, sorry Elsa is making me feel right at home."

Sam looked around. "And where is your lovely wife Anson?"

"Unfortunately she was unable to come." Anson pulled a face of mock regret.

"Well I'm going to leave you two boys to get acquainted. Please try the cheese, and jalapeno bites." Elsa moved away already waving to greet some newcomers.

"I can tell you've spoken to Michael. You should know it's nothing personal Sam. Even though you did, help to bring down a business I had spent half my life building."

"You're making it personal, Anson. Leave Elsa out of whatever you have planned."

Anson took a sip of his peach Mojito. "Sam, a word of advice. Don't threaten me, a sudden outbreak of E coli or Botulism and Elsa would be facing all sorts of enquiries." Anson's smile widened even further at the anger on Sam's face. "I wanted to take this opportunity to tell you about your part in my new enterprise." He moved closer. "Keep Michael in line. If he misbehaves the repercussions go a lot further than just you and Fiona." With a final smirk Anson turned away, going to join the other guests.

()()

Michael was sick of all the tests he had been put through, and the questionaires he had been ordered to complete. He now sat waiting for the DIA neurologist to give him the results. He had been kept waiting for over an hour, he had other things he could be doing.

Finally a rather harassed looking doctor entered the room and took a seat. "Mr Westen, I'm Doctor Petersen. I've had a chance to go through your file, and I'm happy to report your head injuries seem to be healing up nicely."

"What about the headaches, and ….. all the other symptoms?"

"Post concussion syndrome is caused by your brain repairing itself. It can take time for the symptoms to completely disappear. From what I understand you haven't been resting as much as you should have been."

"I've been busy." Michael replied, trying not to show how much his head hurt.

"Well that's going to end. I'm recommending you are removed from the active list, for at least three months. At that time we'll run some more test."

Michael could see Anson's hand in this, the CIA wouldn't touch him now. Raines wouldn't be able to justify keeping an injured burnt spy around. "What about the pills, I've been taking? If I keep taking them won't they help me get better?"

The doctor shook his head. "I want you to stop taking those pills immediately. Post concussion syndrome is best treated with rest."

"So that's it, I'm out?" Michael was out of his chair.

"I'm sorry Mr Westen, but for now yes, you're on leave."

It was all he could do to stop himself punching the doctor in the face. "Thank you." He spoke through clenched teeth, slamming the door shut behind him.

With the door shut, Doctor Petersen reached for his phone. "He needs rest, and I've taken him off those drugs. What possessed you to prescribe Methylphenidate, and Moclobemide?"

"I didn't. Make sure when you send the report over to Langley there is no mention of my involvement." Anson's voice came through the phone.

"And my little indiscretion?"

"Your wife will never hear about it from me." Anson assured him.

()()()

**Meanwhile in Las Vegas.**

"Nathan. Come in, sit down."

Nate Westen nervously looked round at the two very large men who stood in the doorway guarding the way out. With a gulp he took the seat he had been offered.

"Mister Faraday I'm working on paying you back honest. It's just that.." He stopped his excuses when Farday raised a hand.

"I have a job for you, Nathan. You do this job, I'll take a cut of your pay until the debts paid off."

Nate's heart sunk, wondering what he was going to have to do to clear his massive gambling debts. "What's the job? You know cos I'm quite busy at the moment, and I should be able to pay you a little extra this week."

"No you won't because you're going to be too busy packing. I want you to go back to Miami, I need a driver for a few high paying jobs." Faraday gave him a smile, and came around his office desk to wrap an arm around Nate's shoulders. "You don't want to disappoint me do you Nate? I mean you've got a lovely little family. Miami is your home town isn't it, what's better than bringing up your kid in your old home town surrounded by family and old friends."

Nate slipped out of Faraday's grip his instincts telling him to run as far away as he could. But he had responsibilities now, he loved his wife, and his son Charlie was the very best thing in his life. He plastered a smile on his face, he had no choice, but at least if he was back in Miami Michael would help him out.

"I'll go talk to Ruth right now Mister Faraday. It might take a while to sell up and..." He trailed off as Faraday shook his head.

"I've already found you a place in Miami, you'll love it. So you go tell Ruth to start packing. I want you ready to leave by the end of the week."

"But.."

"Goodbye Nathan. My guy in Miami is expecting on on Monday." Faraday pushed Nate towards the door.

With Nate Westen out of his office, Faraday picked up the pre pay cell phone that had been delivered to his home a week earlier. Pressing one on the speed dial he paced the room while waiting for the call to be answered.

"It's done." He snapped. "Westen will be in Miami next week. Now give me my wife back."

"Temper Faraday. Your dear wife doesn't even know the danger she's been in. As soon as Nate has returned to his home town your wife will be back in your arms." The line went dead, and Faraday slumped down in his chair. If he never heard the name Nate Westen again it would be too soon.

()()()

Anson Fullerton relaxed back in his chair, watching the rest of Elsa Dearbon's guests enjoying themselves. He smiled at Sam Axe protectively following his new lady friend around. These people were making it too easy for him.

Frank Westen had been the key to controlling Michael. As a child, and teenager he had done whatever was necessary to protect his family from the drunken bully. It was part of his character, he would do the same thing now, he would protect his friends, and family regardless of the cost to himself.

Feeling eyes on him he stared up at Sam Axe, and raised his glass in a mock toast. There was one thing that Larry Sizemore had right, Sam Axe would have to go. But it was going to have to be done with finesse.


	31. Chapter 31

**Out of the ashes:**

Chapter thirty one,

The cove was blanketed in darkness, Fiona had worked out as long as she stayed on the wide wooden veranda the security lights would not trigger, and she wouldn't be blinded by the strong halogen spotlights. She sat outside, sipping on a cup of strong tea, listening to the waves gently lapping onto the sand, while her mind sifted through all she had learnt since she had been picked up.

She had worked out when the sun set behind the high cliff wall, that she was on the East coast of wherever she was being held, and as the flight had lasted less than an hour she had to still be in the Caribbean, or at most somewhere along the coast of Central America.

Having worked out roughly where she was, she turned her attention to who might have the wealth, and the inclination to kidnap her. Since moving to Miami she had made contact with a lot of the gun runners who worked the area, but most were small time like her friend Donnie. Not the sort of people to have a private army on call to guard their luxury hideaways filled with expensive antiques.

Of those who were rich enough, most would have either approached her head on, if they had wanted her for a job, or just killed her if they wanted her dead. She could only think of a couple of old associates who liked playing these sort of games.

Then there was the men patrolling the cliff top, outfitted in US military clothing and weaponry. The men she was thinking of had always armed their men with the very best. They wanted to show off their most expensive, top of line hardware. It was all very confusing.

She chewed on her lower lip glancing at the door leading inside the cottage, there was something she had to do before she could try to get some rest. There was no way on earth she was going to get any sleep until she was absolutely sure nobody was watching her. So that meant checking every single place she could think of for listening devices, and cameras. Including unscrewing every electrical outlet, and light switch she could find.

By the end of it all the cottage looked like a small bomb had gone off, and Fiona was more frustrated than ever. Just because she hadn't found anything to prove she was being spied on, didn't mean there was nothing there. It just meant they were better at hiding, than she was at finding.

"_God, I'm becoming as paranoid as Michael_." Fiona muttered, as she stared at what had once been a neat, and tidy room.

Walking into the kitchen she grabbed one of the bottles of wine, hoping it would help her relax a little. As she rummaged through the drawers looking for a corkscrew she came to a halt. Now was not the time to dull the senses with alcohol. She returned the wine to the rack, and reached for the kettle instead. One more cup of tea she decided, and then she was going to try out that large bed with the comfy mattress and luxury bed linen.

Several times in the night her sleep was disturbed by the whirr of helicopters passing overhead, and then in the early hours of the morning she could take no more, when she was woken by the unmistakable sound of automatic gunfire. She got up, opening the curtains and shutters, scowling when she looked out on the pre dawn light, and realized there was nothing to see. The dim hope of rescue squashed.

By the time the sun was peeking up over the horizon, Fiona was sat outside with a cup of tea, and a plate of fresh fruit before her, she squinted up at the brightness of the rising sun. Munching away on an apple, Fiona's mind was busy working on a plan of action. The sun was on the horizon, turning the sea red with it's glow. Finishing the tea she got to her feet, a determined look on her face. Time to start looking for a way out of the cove.

Slipping off her dressing gown she revealed a forest green bathing suit, tying her hair back she strode purposely towards the water. This early in the morning she knew the water was going to be cold, but she needed to know if it was possible to swim out into the open ocean. She also needed to see how far the guards on the cliff top would go to keep her imprisoned.

Shivering as the water covered her feet and then her knees, she walked out until the water was waist deep and then dived forward, swimming strongly towards the tall curved rocks which protected the cove. As she neared the open sea, she took a deep breath and disappeared under the surface. She was expecting to feel the vibrations of bullets hitting the water at any second. Then she saw why the guards weren't firing, her way was blocked by a heavy duty net strung across the opening.

Coming up to the surface she turned to face the land. Two of the guards had their rifles raised to their shoulders as they watched her through their scopes. Smiling up at them she waved, as if she wasn't silently cursing getting freezing cold just to find there was no way out via the sea.

While treading water she took a good look at her home, and realized how well guarded it really was. Set back from the cliff edge was a tall watch tower, a flash of light told her guards on top were watching the ocean. Also from the entrance to the cove the cottage was only partially visible. It would be suicide for any attack to come from the sea, or any rescue for that matter.

Muttering another curse she swam back to the beach, she was going to have to find a way out of the cove, and try to escape inland.

**()()()**

" Sorry, but it's Doctors orders. At least three months of rest and relaxation." Raines leaned back in his chair, his eyes following the younger man who was pacing back, and forth like a caged tiger in front of his desk.

"So I'm out?" Michael stopped to stare down at his unofficial boss.

"Look Michael at the moment I can't even use you unofficially. The doctors report you as unfit to work, the committee looking into your actions over the NOC list hasn't reached a decision on your status, and now this business with Perovic. Do you have any idea of the trouble you've caused?" He ignored the look of frustration that Michael shot him. "I've organized a vacation for you. It'll give you a chance to have a proper break, away from any distractions."

"What? I have things to do." Michael waved a hand dismissively. "There are people out there..."

"This is why you need a break." Raines interrupted, trying to be patient. Reminding himself that being Michael Westen's handler had always been hard work. "You're seeing trouble everywhere. I'm sending you out to one of our training camps. The place is secure, you can recharge your batteries without any worries about old enemies coming after you."

"And I'll be nice and handy if Agent Pearce wants another word with me." Michael spat out. "Do you think I had something to do with Max's death?"

Raines turned his head away, to look out of his office window. "I think, unless you want to stay nothing more than an occasionally useful asset, you need to remember how to follow orders, and curb your temper." He replied.

Michael took a deep breath, forcing down the feeling of frustration. Accepting the inevitable. "So where am I going?"

"Costa Rica. You'll have a couple of weeks of complete rest, and then I want you to do some retraining. Afterwards one of our own doctors will assess you for work in the field."

"Costa Rica." He pulled a face. "You couldn't find me somewhere cooler, I hate the heat, and humidity. Some place without mosquitoes."

"You were born and raised here in Miami you should be used to the heat." Raines countered. "Besides it's safer for you in Central America than in Central Europe at the moment."

"What do you mean?"

"The death of the Perovics has destabilized the whole region. You are more unpopular than ever with the FSB."

With Anson Fullerton breathing down his neck Michael wasn't sure if he could cope with trying to deal with the Russian FSB as well. Maybe going to the training camp was what he needed. It would put a crimp in Anson's plans. He could argue that he had to do as Raines ordered, unless Anson wanted him to back out of any deal with the CIA.

Forcing his tense muscles to relax Michael stood upright, and took a deep breath. "Ok. I'll go. When do I leave?"

Raines got to his feet, smile firmly in place. "Go home. Pack light. A car will pick you up in an hour. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised, Costa Rica is lovely at this time of year."

()

"Hey Sam." Michael held his phone up to his ear as he let himself back into the loft.

"So what did the hospital shrink have to say. Are you really as crazy as we all think you are?" Sam's voice came through the speaker on the phone, as Michael placed it on the work top. He allowed himself a small smile. Sam must think he was ok if he was making jokes.

"I'm off the meds, but I'm going to be away for a while." He was emptying the fridge of everything that would go off while he was going to be away.

"Can you say where?" Sam sounded worried.

"Sorry. You know what it's like." He paused. "Sam can you try to find Fi, make sure she's safe. She took the charger, somebody must still have it, get them to tell you where she's gone."

"Ok buddy. I still think we should tell her about Anson. I mean the guy is a snake."

"No. She's better off out of the way."

There was an uncomfortable silence. "I mean it Sam. If I could get you to run as well, I would do it. I'm too dangerous to be around."

"We're stronger together Mike. But, I know you're not going to listen to me. So be safe. By the time you get back we should have something to work with."

Two hours later Michael was sat inside a helicopter, looking at the other passengers he realized he was the only person on the flight over thirty years old. The flight took nearly three hours and for the whole time nobody spoke. While the others sat nervously in silence glancing at each other wondering what they were getting themselves into. Michael lay his head back, shut his eyes and continued to think about how he was going to get out from under Anson's thumb without getting all of his friends and family killed.

**()()()**

To the men who stood guard it looked like Fiona had resigned herself to her present circumstances. She had spent the whole day lying out on the beach, and occasionally going for a swim. In the afternoon when storm clouds blew in from the ocean and she disappeared inside the cottage, the guards had relaxed even more.

When the rain had started to come down Fiona had began to smile, thinking the gods were on her side. As she changed out of her bathing costume and into some khaki coloured cotton pants, topped with a pale green t shirt. The afternoon shower turned into a torrential downpour, and she was even more convinced somebody up above was watching over her.

She left the cottage, hugging the wall all the way round the cottage until she was against the sparse foliage decorating the cliff face. Doing her best to ignore the rain that what masking her escape she followed the wall to the narrow track that appeared to be the only way out of the cove.

While she had been laying out seemingly enjoying the suns rays in reality she had been watching the change over of the guards, and trying to find the way out of the cove. She had worked out that just out of sight there was at least two men guarding the track. She had spotted the sun glinting off the lens of a set of binoculars, and at one point she had caught sight of cigarette smoke from between the trees.

Eventually she made it to the opening in the cliff wall that led out of the cove. Crouching down she studied the two guards. They were huddled under a piece of tarpaulin tied between two trees, two men at ease with their task, one squatting down watching over a pan of water boiling on a camping stove while the other stood lighting up a cigarette.

"I tell you Bill I didn't sign up to watch over some little girl. I mean what makes her so important?" Fiona listened to the complaint, she was close enough to hear the words even through the noise of the rain.

Bill inhaled a lung full of nicotine, and blew out a cloud of smoke before replying. "Orders are orders. You know how it goes, this is probably just one of their damn tests."

Smiling she edged even closer. So he didn't like guarding little girls. She studied the ground her eyes lighting on a thick tree branch. Nearby was a stone about the size of her hand. Picking it up she weighed it in her hand for a moment, and then launched it into the bushes opposite her position.

It was time for them to learn about the Fiona Glenanne school of shock and awe.

Both men turned towards the sound, and while they searched for an imagined enemy she sprung from her cover swinging the branch overhead as she went. One man took a hard blow directly to the top of his skull, dropping him to the ground. The second managed to half turn and just get his hand to his gun when the branch caught him in the face. Before he could recover a kick from a tennis shoe knocked him out cold.

Taking a moment to make sure both men were unconscious, she checked over their appearance, and weapons. They had a definite look of US soldiers, scowling she thought about waking one of them up, to question them. But she knew at any moment more guards could turn up. So she took their radios, and their weapons, and headed back into the trees.

With a rifle slung over her shoulder, and a Beretta in each hand Fiona glided through the forest. The rain had stopped now, the ground steaming as the sun came back out. Her luck was fading, first without the cover afforded by the rain she was far more visible. And then the radio she had taken crackled and a voice informed her the prisoner had escaped.

Realizing they were going to be searching for her, Fiona picked up speed. Darting in between the trees she stayed close to the track hoping at some point she would come across a vehicle she could steal.

The sound of voices coming in her direction, caused her to drop down flat onto the leaf litter.

"Have they actually searched the cottage. I mean she couldn't have taken out two men. What is she five foot two or three? And I bet she can't weigh more than a hundred pounds." One of the men commented.

"You heard the Captain. She's some sort of Ninja, don't get close and don't let her get hold of a weapon." Another answered. "I mean did you read her file?"

"I have, and I can't believe she's being kept at the cottage, instead of in the cells."

"Yeah." The other one laughed. "I wouldn't mind trying out my interrogation techniques on her."

Fiona kept still until they disappeared from sight, then slowly got back to her feet when it was all clear, brushing off the front of her soaked clothing.

"Drop the guns Miss Glenanne no one means you any harm unless you resist." She just managed to refrain from jumping. Instead she scanned the area, her eyes settling on another two men who must have been following the first two.

She tensed, in her mind she had already chosen her targets, but hearing the clicks of more guns behind her, she gave up, letting the hand guns fall to the ground, and taking the rifle from around her shoulder she let that join the other weapons. The first two men had returned and she was surrounded.

"Good girl, let's go back to the cove now."

**()()()**

Michael opened his eyes as the helicopter came down in the middle of a large square surrounded by a variety of single storey buildings. He waited for the other passengers to disembark, before grabbing his flight bag and joining them in the dirt compound.

"Agent Westen come this way sir." He turned to the speaker, staring into the chest of a six foot six tall man dressed in military uniform.

Half an hour later he was dressed in an army combat uniform, looking very much like every other person on the base. Standing in front of a desk as a clerk went through his bag checking that he wasn't bringing any contraband onto the base.

"Sorry about this sir. But we have very strict rules about what can be brought onto the base." The clerk felt the need to apologize.

Michael nodded, as his cell phones and wallet disappeared into a safe. It felt strange to be without any contact to the outside world. Before his mind could start to drift, he forced himself to turn his attention back to the man still talking to him.

"Director Raines has organized for you to stay in the executive quarters. It's a private location, away from all the noise of the barracks. You can go wherever you want on base, but you are not to attempt to leave without permission. You'll have to book time on the shooting ranges we have a lot of recruits in training at the moment, but you are welcome to join in any of the unarmed combat classes or run the assault courses."

Michael nodded, without his phone Sam couldn't contact him, but neither could Anson. The lack of responsibility, and even control was nice for a change. He knew he was going to be climbing the walls from boredom in a couple of days but for now he would try to enjoy it.

It was dark when he was finally escorted to a deserted beach, passing more guards along the way. Left alone he walked across the sand to what looked like a cottage made out of bamboo. It was not quite what he was expecting from executive quarters. As he got closer security lights lit up the whole cove nearly blinding him. Scowling he let himself inside. He just hoped the lights weren't going to switch on every time a bird came down to land, or a rat scurried passed.

Looking around the room he was puzzled to see open magazines lying on the table, and on one of the chairs. Leaving the lights off he walked over to the only other door, and cautiously pushed it open. Pleased that he was on high alert, when a figure hurl itself at him. Acting instinctively he used a judo throw to put his attacker on the floor, and sat down hard on them grabbing thin wrists in his hands.

He stared with a shocked expression at Fiona's angry features. He was off her in a second, remembering the last time they were this close. How he had back handed her across the face, in blind fury.

"Fi... What are you doing here?" He tried to help her up but jumped out of the way when she lashed out at him with a foot.

"Michael." Her eyes went wide as she looked him over. "Do you know where we are, or whose in charge?"

He gave her a puzzled look. This had to be Raines idea of being helpful. He remembered asking for help finding her. He also remembered the parting comment about a pleasant surprise waiting for him.

"We're inside a CIA training compound In Costa Rica. How did you get here?"

She glared at him through narrowed eyes, he wasn't a prisoner. She had a sneaking suspicion he might have even arranged her extraction.

"I was picked up by two armed goons on the beach yesterday. Did you have anything to do with this?"

"No, honest Fi, I couldn't find you, you wouldn't answer my calls I was frantic, I asked Raines to help me find you. But I didn't think..."

"That's your biggest problem Michael you don't think any more. You just react, are you telling me a Director at the CIA had me kidnapped as a favour to a burnt spy?"

"I guess he must have." He muttered running a hand through his hair he reached to the wall to flick the light switch on.


	32. Chapter 32

**Out of the Ashes. **

**A/N: Thank you Daisy Day, and Amanda Hawthorn for reading through part of this chapter for me. **

Chapter thirty two,

"Are you telling me a Director at the CIA had me kidnapped as a favour to a burnt spy?" Fiona snapped as she scrabbled to her feet. Rubbing her wrists from where he had gripped them so tightly.

"I guess he must have." Michael muttered in reply, running a hand through his hair. Her sudden appearance had shocked him to the core.

With a flick of a switch, the bedroom was bathed in a soft glow. Michael blinked several times, keeping his eyes downcast while he became used to the light. After a moment he briefly surveyed the room, before turning his gaze to Fiona, taking in every inch of her appearance. He started with her painted pink toe nails, and smooth shapely bare legs. Skimming over her pale blue cotton shorts, and the cream colour of an almost see through camisole top.

It was only when he reached her face, framed by long auburn hair that he remembered to breathe. Taking a deep calming breath, he stared longingly at her full lips, and finally into her blue-green eyes. Eyes which at the moment seemed to be filled with fire.

His breath hitched in his throat, as he felt his resolve begin to crumble. _How could he have possibly thought about sending her away?_ When all he wanted to do was gather her up in a tight embrace, bury himself deep inside her and stay there forever. He took a hesitant step in her direction, and then froze as she stiffened, holding out a hand to stop him closing the distance between them.

"So what's this?" She gestured with a pointed finger around the room. "A welcome back present?"

His brow creased, confused by the question, and the harshness of her tone.

"If your _keeper _Raines did this, I take it, it's because you're back in. And I'm what, some kind of prize?" As she spoke, her hand was idly running along the top of a nearby dressing table.

"No." He got her meaning, shaking his head emphatically. "_No!_ you don't understand."

"So explain it to me _please._" Her fingers curled around a delicate looking figurine of a bird.

"I can't explain it." He muttered. "I'll contact Raines in the morning I'll tell him I made a mistake, and ask him to let you go."

The look of contempt on her face was too much for him to bare. _How could he ask her to stay. After what he had done. _Unaware of the danger he was in Michael switched the light on in the lounge, and walked away.

"_**Oh**_ you're not getting away that easy!" He heard the pad of her feet behind him.

His head snapped forward, as a porcelain figurine hit him on the back of the neck. Stumbling, Michael put a hand to his neck, it came away clean, luckily she had not drawn blood.

"Fi!" He turned to face her, anger flashed across his features. But he brought it quickly under control.

She followed him into the lounge, another ornament in her hand, her anger flaring at his dismissive attitude. "You send me over a hundred messages, and threatened nearly everyone I know in Miami. You have your government friends abduct me, and hold me prisoner, and now you just want me to go? I'm not a possession you can pick up, and toss aside whenever you like."

He ducked as another object came at his head, this one was larger, and it broke in two as it hit the wall. He put his hands up to ward her off, his eyes widening when he saw her snatch up a decorative oil lamp.

"You're right I should've never asked Raines for help. I had no right to..." This time he caught the missile that came his way, placing it down on the coffee table with shaking hands. "After what happened, what I did.."

She cut him off. "So if you don't want me. Why am I here?"

With his back pressed up against the wall, he was unable to retreat any further. He screwed his eyes tightly shut, seeing her was more than his battered emotions could take, even when under attack all he wanted was to feel her soft skin under his hands.

In that moment she was on top of him. He opened his eyes as small hands landed on each of his shoulders. The touch of her knee against the inside of his leg made him gulp.

"What game are you playing Michael?" Her breath like a soft caress on his neck, and had him trembling with the effort to stay motionless.

She stared up at him, he looked a mess. She could see the pulse fluttering in his neck, worried eyes looking down at her, and his tongue flicking out to wet his lower lip. For a second her gaze fixated on that full lower lip, then she shook herself.

His CIA _masters _would not have brought her here out of the goodness of their hearts. "Answer me!" She demanded, trying to ignore the tears that were building in the corner of her eyes.

She felt a tremor run across his shoulders at her question, and she dug her knee into his thigh a little harder, reminding him to keep still.

"There's no game." He spoke so softly she barely heard the words. "I was frantic, I had no idea where you had gone...What I did... Hitting you, it was unforgivable. I know that. Raines must have thought he was doing me a favour."

His hands had moved to her waist, his touch so light she didn't realized they were there at first. His head lowered towards hers, as he finished speaking his lips tentatively touched her forehead. The touch regardless of how light burned through her. _No he was not getting round her that easily! _She jerked her head back, her knee pressing upwards. A warning of what was to come if she didn't get what she wanted.

"_**A favour?**_ A favour is asking a few questions. Maybe giving you the address of my hotel. It is not organizing a full scale extraction, and holding me prisoner until you can put in an appearance."

She stopped as his hands tightened on her waist. Using his strength, and greater reach he picked her up, ignoring her protests, and stepped away from the wall. Putting her back down he went to the couch and slumped down burying his head in his hands.

"Leave me alone Fi. I know you don't believe me, but I didn't ask for any of this." He drove the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to block the sensation of having sharp needles being driven into his brain.

Fiona recognized the signs of exhaustion, and knew there was a possibility that if she pushed too hard he might lash out blindly. But she wasn't about to let this matter go, and unlike the last time she was ready for any violent outbursts.

"Just explain to me what you had to do for Raines to get all this in return." She sat down next to him speaking in a far calmer tone than before.

He shook his head, refusing to look at her. If he looked at her he would beg her to stay, and for her own safety she needed to be as far away from him as possible.

"Michael?" She reached out touching his shoulder, feeling his muscles flinch and jump under her hand. "Michael just tell me what you've done?"

A feeling of dread settled over her. He had to have done something to be getting the VIP treatment. She recalled the brutal way he shot one of the men who had tried to kill Sam. She also remembered the details in the files Larry had left for her to read, recording some of the nastier things he had done during his days as a spy.

"Nothing. I've done nothing." He muttered, still rubbing at his eyes, and refusing to look at her.

"Look at me then, and tell me to my face everything is fine." She demanded.

After a moment he turned, and stared at her, his eyes open, and honest. She watched him like a hawk knowing that the words coming out of his mouth would be worthless, he lied as naturally most people breathed.

"Everything is fine." He answered calmly.

She kept eye contact until he finally looked away, and at that moment she saw it, a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. "You're lying Michael. Please, just this once tell me the truth?" She grabbed at his shoulder, trying to force him back round to face her.

"Nothing happened." He replied, jerking out of her grip.

"Fine. If you won't let me help you, I'll leave as soon as you can arrange it. I never wanted to be here anyway." She told him, crossing her arms over her chest, and turning away.

"It's for the best." He sighed getting to his feet, and going in to the kitchen. Using the excuse of getting a bottle of water so she wouldn't see the hurt on his face.

With a huff she got to her feet, and went back into the bedroom returning a few minutes later with a pillow and a blanket. She wasn't going to beg, she had given him so many chances.

"Here. You had best go through the bathroom now before I go to bed." She dropped the bedding down, and watched him through narrowed eyes.

He nodded, pleased at least for now she was letting the matter drop. As he went through the bedroom, to the en suite he caught a glimpse of her sinking down onto the couch.

Once he had stripped off, Michael stepped under the shower letting the water soothe his tired body. Like every other moment since Anson Fullerton appeared, his thoughts concentrated on how to get the man out of his life. He was living every spy's worst nightmare, he had broken the rules, and begun to think he could love, that he could have some sort of normal life. And now he, and everybody involved with him was going to pay the price.

"_A gun dealing, bomb making girlfriend is not helping your cause." _

The words of Tom Strickler, self styled agent to the spies, came to him out of nowhere. His eyes narrowed as that one memory led to another more painful.

"_Michael, I'm telling you this for your own good." Raines voice had crackled through the telephone line. "You have to be out of Dublin by tomorrow morning. The British have had enough of your interference, if you are not out of the country by first light they intend to denounce you to the Irish parliament. It will cause an international incident, you'll be branded a rogue agent by your own government, and your girlfriend will be outed to the world as an American intelligence asset. There will not be a place on Earth where either of you will be safe."_

Every time he had thought there was a chance he might get the burn notice rescinded, that phone call made in the dead of night came back to haunt him. It was a fear he had kept to himself, if they let him in, they would insist he sent Fiona away, or they would make her disappear.

Switching off the water Michael began to dry himself, not liking the direction his thoughts were taking him. Raines had gone to a lot of trouble to set up in this little love nest. He lent over the sink, wishing that he could just clear his jumbled thoughts enough to calmly reason out a plan of action.

"_I want you to be the same unstoppable sonovabitch you used to be."_

If they wanted him to be that person again, they would not be encouraging him to be with Fiona. Or keeping him attached to the friends he had made, and the family he had learnt to care about. All that had been Anson's plan, a ploy to make it possible to manipulate him.

He looked up into the mirror hanging above the sink. If he was correct it meant Raines was part of the organization that burnt him, and this was another set up.

**()**

Fiona waited for the shower to start up, then once she was sure Michael was out of the way she got to her feet. Opening the flight bag he had left on the floor she searched through it, looking for clues to what was really going on. There was no way on earth the CIA was giving him all this without something big in return. If he hadn't done anything yet, they certainly had something planned.

When the sound of cascading water ceased she stopped her search. Frustrated that she had been unable to find anything of use, she sat down, and picked up a magazine. Her intention was to look cool, and calm when he reappeared.

She glanced at her watch when he didn't appear when he should have. Instead there came a sudden crash. Jumping to her feet she dashed into the bathroom. She found Michael standing in front of the sink surrounded by broken glass, the mirror above the sink was smashed, and blood was running down Michael's cheek from a gash in his forehead.

"God Michael! What have you done?" She shrieked, tiptoeing round the shattered glass so she could exam the wound.

He brushed her hands away, picking up a face cloth to clear the blood away. "It's nothing." He pressed the cloth against the wound, stepping passed her to sit down on the edge of the bed.

"Stop lying to me Michael. This isn't nothing."

He knew he had to tell her something. But not the truth, at least not the whole truth. If Raines was working with Anson things were far worse than he ever expected. The chances of him getting out of the situation he was in alive were slipping further away.

"Get me my clothes." He asked gruffly, and then realized how he sounded. "Please." He added.

He grimaced when his pants hit him in the chest. As he slipped them on, he reached a decision. "Raines sent me to a neurologist." He blurted out. "I'm ok, the guy said the same thing as the other one Sam organized. I'm off those meds you were so worried about, and I've been ordered to take R and R, it was Raines who decided I needed a complete break, and sent me here. I really didn't know he had extracted you off a beach."

"So this is what? A vacation?"

He managed a half smile. "Sort of, I guess."

"How long for?"

"Three weeks complete rest, followed by training, and assessment. But I'm out for at least three months." He felt like kicking himself, he was out, possibly facing prosecution for all the crimes committed when he was with Larry. Why on earth would he be sent to a CIA training camp.

They sat in silence for a bit longer, Michael occasionally dabbing at the cut on his head. While trying to ignore how close she sat next to him.

"I could relax on the beach here just as easily as …."

He nodded, and smiled. This was better, he eased back a little on the bed, reaching out to brush the hair away from her face. In his mind he was already planning how the rest of the night would go.

She got to her feet, sliding out of his grasp a smile on her face.

"Well, Goodnight then. You had best go make up your bed, and I'll see you in the morning." She held out a hand to help him to his feet, guiding him towards the door. Once he was in the lounge, she gave him a light kiss on the lips.

"Maybe after a night on the couch you'll feel like telling me whatever it is you're hiding." She slammed the door shut leaving him alone.


	33. Chapter 33

**Out of the Ashes. **

**A/N: A big thank you to every one who is reviewing this story and putting it on their favourites lists. I'm sorry I don't get time to thank you all personally, but things have been fairly busy recently. Also a Special Thanks to Daisy Day and Amanda Hawthorn for helping with this chapter.**

Chapter Thirty three,

**()**

"Maybe after a night on the couch you'll feel like telling me whatever it is you're hiding."

Stung by Fiona's words, Michael stared at the bedroom door, trying to work out what exactly had gone wrong. She had started off using ornaments like grenades, and telling him she wanted to leave, to doing a complete turn around, and hinting about staying. Before finally, just when he thought they were going to be alright, throwing him out of the bedroom.

Dabbing at his self inflicted head wound, Michael turned to the couch that was to be his bed for the night. After tossing, and turning for what felt like hours he looked at his watch, to discover barely an hour had passed. He had thought sleep would come easily, but he was wrong. His brain refused to shut down. The realization that the man who had recruited him into the CIA was one of the bad guys, was playing havoc with his thought process.

As he lay there he couldn't help but wonder how long Raines had been playing him, and that thought was making him more angry by the minute. Unable to stay still any longer he began to pace around the cottage.

As he circled the room he lost all track of time. If he was correct, and Raines was involved with Anson it would mean he would never know for sure if any of the jobs the CIA gave him were legitimate, or something illicit for the two men who held his family, and friends lives in their hands.

Suddenly, the cottage felt to small, he needed to go outside in the fresh air, and run. Opening the door he stepped out, only to stagger back inside, when the security lights almost blinded him. Cursing he went back to pacing around the room, stopping only to lay down on the floor to do crunches, and press ups.

Only when his body was at the point of exhaustion, and his headache worsened to where he could barely function, did he fall back onto the couch, and curl up as best he could. Shutting his eyes, he tried to will himself to sleep.

Before he fell into a fitful sleep, one thing became very, clear he needed help, and there was only two people he could think of that he trusted completely.

Sam was back in Miami trying to dig up information on Anson. Fiona was asleep next door, barely talking to him. He knew if he wanted her help, he was going to have to give her what she wanted first, and tell her everything.

**()**

Fiona lay on top of the covers of the king size bed, trying to block out the sound of Michael's bare feet padding around on the hardwood floor next door. Several times during the night she had forced herself not to go, and check on him. Along with all the noise from Michael's restless pacing, her sleep was disturbed by helicopters flying overhead, and just like the previous night the crackle of distant gunfire.

In the end, as the sun began to peek over the horizon, she could take no more, and after a quick shower started sorting through her clothes for something to wear. Something casual, but also that would remind Michael what he was at risk of losing.

As soon as she was happy with her appearance, Fiona went towards the door. The smell of fresh coffee, and croissants warming in the oven told her Michael was up, and about. It was time to see if a night on the couch had taught him anything.

Michael wasn't in sight when she walked into the lounge, looking around she saw he was sitting outside. Sauntering out to join him, she offered him a small smile when he got to his feet to hold a chair out for her to sit down. They locked eyes for a moment before, without speaking he poured her a cup of tea from the pot he had made.

"Hi." He pushed, the plate of pastries towards her.

"Hi." She replied, turning away slightly, to admire the sunrise.

They sat in silence for quite sometime, enjoying the peace, and quiet. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Michael was watching her, waiting for her to make the first move.

**_When negoitating a peace deal, patience is a virtue. Be prepared to wait as long as necessary until the opposing side is ready to talk._**

"So when are you going to call your new Master, tell him that you don't want the present he went to so much trouble to get you?" She knew it was a bitchy comment, but part of her was pleased with the way he winced at her words.

He dropped his head, and got to his feet. Moving to lean against one of the wooden roof supports. When he started talking she had to lean forward to hear his words.

"You wanted to know what's happened? Why we're both here?" He paused, before telling her the whole story. Max's death, Anson's appearance, and his threats. Finally his suspicions about Raines motives for bringing them together.

Fiona sat in dumbfounded silence, a slow burning rage building up. How could he have possibly kept all this to himself? Her head spun with it all, and it took her a minute to realize he had stopped talking.

Getting to her feet, she went towards him but stopped when he stiffened, and moved away. "No Fi, there's more. It's about the night I left you, in Dublin." He paused, fighting against the instinct to keep quiet.

"Raines called me that night, he told me that your last job in Belfast had been the final straw for the British. They wanted me gone, that if I was still in any part of Ireland in the morning they were going to inform the Irish government that the CIA had an agent working within their borders. They were also going to announce to the world that you were an American intelligence asset."

She swallowed, and then sank back down on to a chair. "And you didn't think to tell me this at the time?" She couldn't hide the hurt in her voice.

"If I had told you, I knew there was a chance you would want to come with me." He turned to face her, staring directly into her eyes. "I couldn't do that to you. I left to save us both, we would have been on the run for the rest of our lives."

She broke the contact. "You should have asked me what I wanted."

He reached for her, but Fiona was already on her feet. "Fi?" He watched as she went inside.

"Go make your call to Raines. Tell him I want to leave." She closed the door, and made her way into the bedroom shutting that door too.

"Fiona!" There was a touch of panic in his tone, he followed her inside. Coming to a stop in front of the closed bedroom door. "Fi, please. Can I come in?" He gripped the door knob turning it slowly. When he got no reply he pushed the door open, looking inside but not entering.

Fiona stood next to the bed facing him, her arms crossed over her chest. Sadness was etched into her features. "I need you Fi, please don't go."

"That's your problem Michael, you only seem to pay attention when you need something from me." When he didn't answer her back, she sat down on the bed. "Go test your theory. Ask if I can leave. If he says no, you'll know you're right."

"If he says yes?"

"Then I'll go, and you'll know you've made another mistake."

**()()()**

"I'll be gone for a week Sammy, but when I get back I'm all yours. I've booked a beach front villa for us in the Bahamas. It's set in it's own grounds, and there's no phones, or cell coverage." she smiled into the dressing table mirror, watching his reflection. "We'll be totally alone."

Without turning round, Elsa knew Sam was watching her every move. Having finished with her make up, and hair, she got to her feet, and slowly sauntered across to her wall of closets. Giving him a little bit of a show as she slid into a short sleeved, black dress.

"A whole two weeks I don't know if I'm up to that Big Momma." Sam drawled, looking her up, and down from where he lay, propped up on several large pillows.

Elsa felt her legs go weak at the look he was giving her. God this man had got under her skin so quickly. She felt like she was in one of those corny romance novels where the heroine falls for the dangerous dark man. Only her dark man was a hero who had stopped a maniac blowing up Bal Harbour.

She made her way back over to the bed. "You have one week to prepare Sam Axe, don't disappointment me." She leaned over, careful to avoid touching his bandaged wounds. Placing a light kiss on his lips, and then sighing as Sam pulled her down on top of him to deepen the kiss.

When they both came up for air, she pushed herself upright patting her hair back into place. "Oh honey you sure make it hard to leave." She ran her fingertips softly along his jawline, a wistful expression on her face.

"Well, you know your boy toy is going to waiting for you when you get back, and by then these bandages should be off." He raised an eyebrow suggestively, and offered up his best cheesy grin, his hand stroking her stocking covered leg.

"You're a bad man Sam Axe." She giggled, and with one more kiss she was out of the door her heels clacking along the marble floor of the hall.

He could hear her calling out to her hard working PA. "Rita, have you got my diary? I want you to change my three o clock to Four." Her voice faded as he guessed she got into the elevator.

Shutting his eyes Sam lay back, relaxing his eyes as his hand idly stroked the thousand count Egyptian sheet. He would get another couple of hours sleep, and then start on the job of finding out all he could about Anson Fullerton.

He was still smarting from the day before. Just before leaving the party Anson had the audacity to approach Elsa, and suggest that her Sammy might benefit from some counselling sessions after being involved in such a traumatic incident.

The next time Sam opened his eyes, it was after 9am, blinking as the sun shone directly into the room, he realized the housekeeper must have come in at some point, and opened the French doors leading out on to the terrace. After a yawn, and a stretch Sam took a shower and got dressed. Normally he, and Elsa had breakfast out on the terrace, but today he needed to speak to one of the kitchen staff.

_**The truly paranoid don't go to meetings themselves. They use a cut out, someone unrelated to them, who won't be noticed to pass on a message.**_

After a hearty breakfast in the restaurant, Sam made his way into the kitchen. Jorge, was one of The Dearbons Sous chefs, he was very good at his job but he was also a terrible gambler. Sam saw him as an ideal 'cut out', to contact Spencer Watkowski. The man was desperate for money, he wouldn't ask questions, and though Anson might have people watching Sam Axe, they couldn't watch all the staff as well.

"You wanted to see me Mr Axe?" Jorge came over wiping his hands. Breakfast was finished, and the lunch menu was being prepared.

"Hey Jorge, how would you like to do me a little favour?" Sam discretely exposed a handful of twenty dollar bills.

"Mr Axe?" He asked worriedly, but he was already licking his lips. He finished work at 1 pm, and he could be at his bookie's half an hour later.

"I'd like you to take a trip to North Beach, go to Henderson's Security Solutions, and deliver a message for me to Spencer Watkowski." He pushed the bills into Jorge's hand. "I'll make it worth your while."

Jorge didn't have to think too hard about the job, the Dollars disappeared into his pocket. "What's the message?"

Sam had spent sometime deciding on the wording for the message, knowing if he made it sound too secret Spencer would in all probability go off the deep end imagining a giant alien conspiracy. In the end he settled for, _Mike needs your help call Sam Axe at 9 pm on... _And then the number of his pre pay phone. Simple, to the point, and not scary in the least.

Having organized getting Spencer a message, Sam headed out poolside. With Fiona in hiding, and Michael god knows where, there was nothing for him to do except gather intelligence.

So until Spencer came on board with helping out, a day working on his tan seemed to be a good idea. As he settled down in his private cabana, a waiter brought over his first mojito of the day. Laying back he closed his eyes letting the warmth of the sun work into his tired, and sore muscles.

It was only when he sat up to attract the attention of one of the many waiters that he noticed a woman in her late forties watching him from beside the bar, he also noticed how her handbag was open, and pointing in his direction. With a smirk he settled back on his lounger, if she was employed by Anson, the only thing she had picked up with her directional microphone was how much he liked mojitos.

He kept an eye on her, noticing that about the same time she left, a couple settled down in the cabana next to him. He wasn't bothered, they could watch him all they liked. If he knew who they were he could make a point of losing them when he wanted.

**()**

Spencer Watkowski sat in his cubicle, his fingers rapidly moving over the keyboard in front of him. His eyes scanning the screen, and his lips moving silently as he scrolled down the page. A shadow falling across his workspace, caused him to look up, irritated at the sudden intrusion into his own little world made up of numbers, and code.

"Spencer Watkowski?" The speaker was tall, leanly built with slicked back hair.

Spencer eyed the man suspiciously, standing up to look along the rows of similar cubicles. "Who wants to know?" He asked, turning his attention back to the man before him.

"I have a message for you. It's from Sam Axe." Jorge held the piece of paper out, thrusting it into the nervous looking man's hand when he didn't take it willingly.

"What does it say?" Spencer asked suspiciously.

"Hey I'm just the delivery boy, read it yourself." Jorge muttered, and turned to leave, he had discovered one his cousins had a poker game set up close by, and the money Sam had given him was burning a hole in his pocket.

Spencer watched the man stride speedily away, and took another look both ways along the corridor, before sitting back down, and very carefully opening the note. After reading it through a couple of times he turned back to his computer, and started checking newspaper reports, and the parts of the FBI database he could get into easily.

"Oh this is bad." He muttered trying to control his rising panic. Getting up he looked along the corridor again. Switching his computer off, he grabbed up his jacket, and rucksack then scurried off towards the doors.

"Mr Thomas, I have to go." He called back. "I have a – a dentist appointment." He almost ran all the way back to his apartment. There was no way on earth he was going to phone Sam Axe, not if what he had read was true. He had to get home, and run some more algorithms to be sure. Just before entering his building he couldn't help but glance upwards at the sky. Still muttering under his breath, he hurried inside.

**()()()**

"It's not possible." Raines smooth tones came through the phone. "I'm sorry Michael but I had to call in a lot of favours, to find Miss Glenanne. Besides if you do get back in, you need to decide if you're going to be continuing this relationship."

Michael closed his eyes, and tried to concentrate on not losing his temper. _He must not let Raines __know that he had worked out his part in it all. _

"I thought the company disapproved of our relationship?" He replied.

"You've done some good work together, getting hold off that NOC list, it has made a lot of people change their opinion about the pair of you. So enjoy the break, sort out your differences. Oh, and don't call me again, when you come back, Agent Pearce will be your agency contact."

Michael stood, staring at the handset, doing his best to control the urge to hurl it across the room. Very carefully he placed it back on the desk, and gave the training officer standing guard a toothy grin. "It looks like we'll be staying awhile."

The officer regarded him with a smirk of his own. He recognized the look of a man trying to keep control of his temper. "Yes Sir." He replied, and then opened the door as a hint for Michael to leave.

Michael walked slowly back to the cove, wondering if his worries being confirmed was a good thing or not.

He found Fiona waiting for his return, sat on the veranda dressed in the tiniest bikini he had ever seen. He stopped to stare at her, as she continued to sun herself pretending that she didn't see him there. Then very slowly, she turned to face him, most of her features hidden by large white rimmed sunglasses.

"Well?" She asked.

"I was right, he won't let you leave." He moved a little closer. "What do you want to do?"

"What. Do. I. Want?" She ennunciated each word. "It's a pity it's taken you so long to learn that particular phrase."

He looked away.

"If we can't leave. I suggest we take the opportunity for a proper vacation." She called out before he could walk away. "We're as safe here as anywhere else."

This was not what he expected to hear. "So you don't mind?"

Her smile turned in to an evil little smirk as she got to her feet, and came to stand in front of him. Removing her sunglasses, she looked him up, and down.

"I think this is just what we need. A chance for us to spend time together, with no interruptions."

He gulped, this was his idea of hell, she was going to insist on talking about them, their future, and there was going to be no urgent missions, or calls for help from his mother, to give him an excuse to escape.

**()()()**

**_The most advanced directional microphones can capture human speech at distance of two hundred metres as long as you have a clear line of sight. They become completely useless in a crowded bar._  
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By 8.30pm The Lotus Bar on the third floor of the Dearbon hotel was already packed with people looking for fun. Sam pushed his way through the loud vibrant crowd, making his way over to a small table in the back of the room. The couple who were sitting there took the fifty dollars he offered them, and left to find another table. As soon as he sat down, with his back against the wall a young waitress appeared with his favourite Mojito.

"Ms Dearbon's private table is available Mr Axe." She pointed over to the VIP area on the other side of the dance floor. He could barely hear her over the thumping beat of the dance music coming through the speakers which surrounded the room.

"Thank you Candy. But I'm not going to be here long."

"Anything else Mr Axe?"

"Just keep them coming sweetheart."

Once he was alone, Sam pulled out his phone, and placed it on the table before him. He had chosen this place as the least likely to be bugged, it was thoroughly cleaned every day, and from where he was sat it would be nearly impossible for anybody to get close enough to listen in without him noticing them.

9pm, passed by, and his phone was still silent. Maybe Spencer didn't believe Jorge, and had been scared off. There was no telling what was going through the mind of the troubled Mathematical genius.

He was concentrating so hard on his phone Sam failed to notice the man who slid into the chair opposite to his own.

"You wanted to see me?" The man asked, his eyes darting around nervously.

"How did you find me? My note said call." Sam replied calmly, taking in Spencer Watkowski's appearance. The man had not changed at all in the last two years. Even down to the uneven beard, and check short sleeved shirt.

"The guy you sent, his jacket had the hotel name on it, then it was just a simple case of getting onto the hotel computer." He paused, to take a breath, and read Sam's stony expression. "You shouldn't use cell phones." He pouted. "Do you know how easy it is to hack a cell phone? Even unregistered phones, and I mean the …." Spencer started up again, his hands busy twirling around a cardboard beer mat.

Sam held up a hand to stop the rant before Spencer could get into full flow. "Ok, ok, don't worry about it. You still taking the meds?" Spencer was a mathematical genius, encrypted codes seemed to jump out at him. Unfortunately he was also a schizophrenic who also believed aliens were real, and warriors from warring alien planets were battling each other for power over the Earth.

"Of course Sam, now what do you need me for? And where's Michael? I mean Michael's the spy shouldn't he be briefing me on the mission? I got that right didn't I? I mean you want me for a mission? Because I don't think you'd..." He was hunched low in his chair, the beer mat forgotten as he rubbed his hands together, and stared about.

"Hey Spencer." Sam clicked his fingers in front of the nervous man's face. "Calm down please. I have a simple little job for you to do. That's all."

He paused, pleased when he saw Spencer was going to remain silent, and listen. "Can you hack into the Jackson Memorial hospital computers, and find out the home address of a hospital employee?"

Spencer cocked his head. This was childs play. "It's a simple task Sam why haven't you done it yourself?" He sniggered. "I mean it's just a case of.."

"Can you do it without being found out." Sam butted in again. Beginning to wish there was an easier way to get the information. "I need an address, bank details and anything else you can get for me. But it's very important that nobody knows." Sam leaned forward, hoping if he kept eye contact he could keep the man's attention for more than twenty seconds.

"So who is he? What's he done? Is he dangerous? Because if he's dangerous I really think we should wait for Mike, or maybe Fiona, I liked Fiona she understood me." He blinked rapidly several times, the noise and the crowds making him very uncomfortable.

"Mike's busy, it's just you, and me buddy." Sam told him. "What do you say? You want to help me catch a very bad guy?"

"It sounds kinda dangerous. I really think we should wait for Fiona, and Mike." The beer mat was now twirling rapidly between his fingers, almost as fast as his eyes were scanning the crowd.

"There's no time Spencer, this is just a little intel gathering mission so when Mike gets back it'll be like a big surprise for him." Sam cajoled.

"So it's not dangerous?" Spencer blinked.

Sam thought about it for a moment. "No, not if you do things just the way I say. Keep things quiet, and do nothing to alert the bad man to what we're doing."

Spencer gulped, and Sam went in for the kill. "I don't think we can do this without you Spence, you're kinda mission critical."

Spencer nodded, he remembered how they had all helped him, Sam had even set him up with a job he loved.

"O-okay then." Sam beamed. "We need somewhere secure for you to do your work. You tell me what you need, and I'll get it for you."

**()**

Sam was a happy man, Spencer started work the following morning, and a few hours later he had all the details of Anson Fullerton's official life. He had been employed by the Defense Intelligence Agency since leaving college. He had a wife Cassandra and was renting a villa in South Beach. He had been in Miami for three years. He had several bank accounts checking, savings, and investments. On the surface everything was completely legitimate.

By late afternoon Sam was ready to pull his hair out. Because as Spencer delved further into the information they had gathered he realized what they had actually got was a brilliantly made up lie. The address, was the winter residence of an elderly couple from Wisconsin. Spencer couldn't find a birth certificate for a Cassandra Elliot-Fullerton registered in anywhere in the US. The bank accounts did exist but the only money in them was legitimate salary payments from the DIA.

By the end of the day, Sam had made a decision. "Spencer, I think we should call it a day now. I have another friend who will check out the financial side. He has a more... _specialized_ knowledge on the subject."

"But I tried to tell you, there's another way to find what you want."

"Ok, but tomorrow, Spencer." Sam sighed, he had felt guilty involving the little guy in the first place. He wrapped an arm around the younger man's shoulders to guide him outside.

Spencer was disappointed, he felt he was on the verge of a breakthrough. But he allowed Sam to escort him out of the deserted office building they were using.

After sending Spencer home, Sam made several attempts to get hold of Barry, but the spiky haired money launderer was being elusive. Giving up after a while, Sam drove back to the Dearbon.

He spent the evening sat on the terrace, pouring over all the information Spencer had pulled off the internet. The trouble was, every detail he checked out, led to a dead end. In the end he gave up, and crawled into bed. Tomorrow he was going to chase Barry down.

The sound of his phone ringing dragged Sam away from his pleasant dreams. With his eyes still shut he pawed at the bedside table until his hand fell upon his phone.

"Yeah?" He mumbled.

"Sam! I need to see you right now. This is bad, so very bad. I wasn't getting anywhere checking through the hospital so I went into the Department of Defense computers, and..." Spencer's panicked tones came through the phone.

"You hacked a Military Intelligence computer!" Sam sat up, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. How had Michael dealt with this guy without shooting him. "Don't do anything. I'm on my way." Sam slammed his phone shut, and started hunting for his clothes.

**()**

Spencer had done far more than hack Military Intelligence computers he had a large stack of papers which he was furiously shuffling through as he muttered wildly about the end of the world, and how could real live people do the things he was reading about.

"It's a Pattern you have to see the pattern, it's all connected. There's a burnt spy here." He stabbed a finger down on a sheet of paper. "But then you follow the pattern, and you see that same person years later in Malaysia, and then a dead business man."

He went over to another pile of papers. "And look, look at this one, a company called Palisade put in a bid for a contract in Iraq in two thousand and two, and this other company had a lower bid... Well just look, their computers go down, and one of their planes blows up. It was declared an accident. But you only have to look, it happens again, and again. Can you see? _They're everywhere."_

"Spencer." Sam tried to get the other man's attention. **"Spencer!"** He yelled. Grateful when the man finally closed his mouth, and stared back.

But only for a moment before he began to hand Sam various pieces of paper. "Ooooh this is so not good. Did you know about this? Does Michael know? Is this what you wanted me to dig up?"

Sam patted the man on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. He glanced at some of the pieces of paper. A smile slowly spreading across his face, finally something he could work with.

"Spencer I could kiss you." He beamed.

Spencer pulled away not sure how to take that comment. Sam looked at him and burst out laughing. "Oh I know you probably won't like it, but man have you helped us out of a hole."

It wasn't what he had been looking for, he had wanted to find personal information on Anson, stuff they could use to make him back off. But Spencer had used his unique skills to see the pattern of what Anson's black ops organization had been doing over the years.

**()**


	34. Chapter 34

**Out of the Ashes. **

**A/N: Thank you as always Amanda Hawthorn, and Daisy Day for reading through part of this chapter. **

Chapter Thirty Four,

"I think this is just what we need. A chance for us to spend time together, with no interruptions."

Fiona couldn't help it, the evil little smirk that had accompanied her words, began to change into a mischievous smile that curved her lips, and made her eyes sparkle. Michael was staring straight at her, his arms crossed over his chest, his mouth turned down, and a frown creasing his brow. She knew exactly what was going through his mind, but he was wrong.

She had given it a lot of thought while waiting for him to return from speaking with Raines. Now was not the time to have a deep meaningful conversation, they had been through too much recently. Emotions were far too raw, for any rational discussion. Her own snippy comment when he had asked her what she wanted, had squashed any doubts she had about her decision.

"I don't think this..." He continued to stare at her, with a stony expression.

"Not now Michael." She broke in, her eyes drifting passed him to the inviting water gently lapping against the shore.

The sun was nearly at it's peek, and after an hour laying out in the sun her skin felt hot, and prickly. The clear blue of their very own little piece of Ocean called out to her, and it looked too good to ignore. It was time to blow off some steam. There would be plenty of time for them to talk, once they remembered what had brought them together in the first place.

Letting the sunglasses fall carelessly from her hand, she left him to sulk, and pout. Brushing passed him on her way to the sea. As she walked away, her hands gracefully reached up to twist her hair into a bun before securing it with several hair pins.

The sensation of her toes sinking into the soft damp sand, and warm water covering first her feet then after another couple of steps tickling her calf muscles made her smile widen even further. The feeling of having the weight of the world resting on her shoulders began to slip away. When the water was up to her waist, she turned to look back over her shoulder, raising a hand to shield her eyes.

"I'm going for a dip." She called out to him, pleased to see the open mouthed stare she was receiving.

The look of distaste that had marred his features at the thought of a forced vacation, trapped with a Fiona demanding they have The Talk about '_them,' _ had vanished. Michael found he was far too entranced by Fiona's taut, toned, and near naked body sauntering passed him on her way to the sea.

Then as she began to wade out, clothed only in that ridiculously tiny bikini, with her hips swaying, and her slender arms lifting her long hair off her beautifully elegant neck Michael tried to remember why he was so against a bit of rest, and relaxation.

"Stop sulking Michael. Come, and join me." She called out again.

Spotting her wickedly seductive smile Michael realized he was staring at her open mouthed, like some gauche schoolboy. Feeling a sudden rush of colour come to his cheeks he snapped his jaw shut with an audible click, and with a little growl of frustration turned towards the cottage. _She was not going to play him like some love sick puppy. _

Or so he thought, because at that moment her voice sung out to him again. "The water is divine. Don't you like getting wet?"

The provoking tone, and the splashing of water caused him to take another look. It took him a second to find her, she was by the entrance to the cove, where the water was at it's deepest. Acting like some sort of maritime siren, her body arcing up out of the water before vanishing under the surface only to reappear in another location.

Unable to resist her pull any longer, Michael quickly scanned the cliff tops pleased to see all the guards had been removed. Then with his eyes firmly fixed on Fiona who was continuing to cavort among the waves, he knelt down in the sand, to unlace his boots. Once the heavy footwear was gone it only took him seconds to strip down to his boxers.

After one final check for any surveillance teams lurking, he sprinted across the burning hot sand. As he entered the water, Michael had a flashback to being sixteen years old, and instead of slowing down he found himself channelling Fiona's playful attitude, and launched himself forward into the waves, instantly disappearing under the surface.

Moving like a guided missile, he cut through the water towards her with long powerful strokes of his arms. His eyes fixed on his target, a pair of slender legs dangling down, moving just enough to keep the alluring little water nymph afloat. He knew that above him, she would be scanning the surface waiting for him to come up for air.

Treading water Fiona stared at the undulating water, unaware that she was being stalked. She knew he was trained in underwater assault, but didn't for one minute think he would use those skills against her.

Suddenly strong arms clamped around her upper thighs, and her body was propelled out of the water. She couldn't help the girlish squeal that escaped her lips.

"Michael! Put me down!" She shrieked.

Instead he lifted her feather light body up even higher into the air.

"Now why would I do that?" He grinned up at her, blinking as droplets of water dripped from her body onto his face.

"Put me down Michael Westen, or I swear I'll kick your ass." He might have taken her threat seriously if it wasn't for the beaming smile that was nearly splitting her face in two.

"Oh I don't think so, Fiona Glenanne." He replied.

Lowering her slightly, he began placing tiny kisses over the flat plane of her stomach. Above him Fiona wriggled, and squirmed in his grip, her fingers going from his shoulders to his hair trying to gain control. In the end she gave up as her body began shake with laughter, it was a happy breathy sound. A sound he hadn't heard for years, it was a sound that went straight through to his soul.

Carefully he brought her body close to his, and began to lower her back into the water, his lips grazing delicate kisses on her flesh from her navel up to her neck until he finally reached her soft yielding lips.

As she settled back into the water, Fiona felt his hands leaving her hips, and beginning to travel up her sides, and around her back, his lips pressed tightly to hers. In response, she let her mouth fall open against the gentle probing of his tongue. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and her fingers ran through his hair. Their legs entangled as they floated on the soft rise and fall of the warm Caribbean sea.

When they finally broke the kiss they stared into each others eyes, both breathing heavily totally lost in the moment.

"Fi?" Michael noticed the wicked smile curving her lips and the look of determination that had entered her eyes.

Without warning she threw herself forward, using everything she had to push him under the waves.

"I told you I'd kick your ass." She called out. Her eyes alight with playful passion.

"Michael?" She looked around, determined that he wouldn't sneak up on her a second time.

Then she was spluttering, wiping salty water off her face, and out of her eyes, as barely two feet in front of her Michael erupted from the sea surrounded by a spray of foaming water.

"Don't _you_ like getting wet Fi?" He threw her own words back at her, a genuinely happy carefree smile on his face. Then, just to make his point he shook his head, sending out another finer spray.

The smile faltered when he saw her stiffen. "Fiona." He swam around her, just out of reach.

"So you want to play." She growled, a predatory glint in her eye.

"Fi, I'm a stronger swimmer than you." He warned.

She didn't bother with any warning, as she pounced. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her lips fastened on his. They twirled though the water twisting, and turning in a tangle of limbs. Finally though a wave brought them onto the beach where she ended on top of him.

"I win." Fiona gasped, her fingers combing through his hair.

The toothy grin on his face told her he didn't mind. "Yes you did." He agreed, closing his eyes when another wave washed over them, moving them further up the beach.

"Come on." She got easily to her feet, and then tried not to laugh as Michael joined her, grabbing at the waistband of his saturated boxers.

"I was under the impression this was a training camp. I didn't pack swim wear." He explained, leaning over her to remove a strand of tangled wet hair from her face, then covering her mouth in a long lingering kiss in a ploy to stop the laughter.

After a moment she pushed him back, gazing up at him while running a finger down the centre of his chest. "We should get out of the sun for a while."

"Yeah." He agreed returning the look.

"Let's get all that sand off you first." She added, her hand brushing the sand off the top of his shoulders.

"Uh-huh." Fiona seemed to be just full of good ideas. He thought as he followed her up the beach.

She turned the tap on to the outside shower that was next to the veranda, and pushed Michael under the stream of cold water. "I'm going to grab a couple of towels." She told him, sniggering again at the ruin underwear, which he had now let fall with a splat on the slatted wooden platform.

When she came back Michael was sand free, handing him a towel she squeezed passed him to get under the falling water. Michael paused, watching her for a moment unsure what she expected of him. Taking a chance, he left his towel with the one she had brought out for herself, and turned to stand behind her. Using his nimble fingers to pull out the hairpins that had secured her hair in a bun. With her hair free, he carefully separated the strands, helping to remove the sand and little pieces of seaweed which had got entangled. When he dropped his hands to her shoulders she turned to face him, reaching up to place a peck on his chin.

"See it's not so bad, being here alone with me, is it?" She asked, as her hands stroked his sides.

"No. It's so bad." He agreed, lowering his chin so he could cover her mouth with his own.

They stayed there, lost in a deep lingering kiss, their hands softly touching wherever they could reach as the water cascaded down on them from the shower. Several minutes passed before they stopped to stand holding each other rocking gently. Michael had bowed his head so it rested in the crook of her neck.

She felt him take a deep shuddering breath, before he began to speak. "Fi, I'm so sorry for everything I've put you through. I never meant to hurt you, I should have n-never have hit you. I always promised myself I would never become like my dad, but now..." She could feel him trembling under her hands.

"Shhh." She whispered into his ear, stroking a hand through his hair. Reaching behind him she turned the tap off, and searched for the towels wrapping one around his shoulders before doing the same with her own. "Lets get inside." She urged, pushing him up the steps towards the cottage.

She let him go ahead, making a point of not noticing him wiping his face with the edge of the towel. As soon as they were inside he turned to face her. She could see the guilt he was feeling plainly on his face. He caught hold of her hand, pulling her into him, his bare flesh cool, and damp from the cold water, he seemed vulnerable and lost.

"Fi, I..." He paused, the words wouldn't come out. The words meant nothing, how many times had he heard his parents say them to each other, sometimes before the shouting started, and always afterwards. The words were hollow without meaning, he knew she longed to hear him say them but whenever he went to utter those particular three little words his mouth dried up.

She put a finger over his lips. "Hush." She ordered, guiding him towards the bedroom. When he collapsed on to the bed , she slipped her hand out of his, and remained standing.

"Fiona?" He looked up at her, confused again about what was happening. He was sure that she would want to talk about what had happened between them.

"It's too soon, and you're tired." She explained. "I'm going to get the smell of seaweed out of my hair, I'll be back soon."

She was grateful he didn't argue but fell back, his eyes closing almost instantly. She wasn't quite ready to bring their relationship back to what it had been, and though he probably thought he was doing the right thing just now. She needed more than a few words of apology from him. She needed a sign that he was going to at least try to help himself get better.

Michael drifted off to sleep, to the sound of Fiona having a hot shower, he could smell the coconut scented shampoo she was using coming from the bathroom. The thought that she was there, and at least they were now doing more that just snipping at each other was soothing. He was unaware when she came back into the room, not even stirring when she shifted him over to cover his body with a sheet. He was still sleeping when she slipped out of the cottage, and up the trail and towards the barracks.

**()**

"Fi. Fiona!" Michael woke up with a start, his heart pounding in his chest, he was all alone. He didn't know, how he knew. But he was sure she wasn't in the cottage. Getting up, he strode into the lounge looking around wildly. Raines had refused to let her leave, she had to be here somewhere.

"**Fiona!**" He shouted out, going towards the door before realizing he was naked.

Turning back he quickly found another pair of pants before going outside to retrieve his socks and boots from the beach. Cursing as he fumbled with the laces trying to rush, and just ending up taking longer. There was nowhere for her to go. She wouldn't be able to get out of the camp, because even though he had been told they weren't being watched he was fairly certain in reality they were under twenty four hour surveillance.

Finally dressed, he jogged along the trail and into the compound. He stopped the first person he saw, a kid in his very early twenties who looked more college student than military. "Have you seen a woman." He held a hand up to his shoulder. "About so tall, long..."

"Training room four sir." The kid told him.

"Training room?" Michael looked about wildly, _how was he meant to know where the training rooms were?_

"Four sir." The recruit pointed to a row of temporary buildings.

With a nod, Michael walked across the compound his heart rate gradually slowing. She hadn't tried to leave, she was still alive. Now what the hell was she doing in one of the training rooms?

He stopped by the open door, a grin slowly spreading over his face. She was there, at the head of the class, the instructor watching from the side of the room, as she showed off her detonator making skills to a group of recruits.

As she finished the demonstration, she saw him watching, and returned his smile. "Ok children. Class is dismissed." She told them, and came over to him giving him a peck on the cheek.

"What are you doing Fi?" He asked, as the young men and women filed passed them.

"I've been giving them the benefit of my vast experience." She spoke airily. "And tomorrow, I promised to show them how to make a bomb out of common cleaning chemicals found in any utility room." She told him, sliding an arm around his waist to lead him back towards the cove.

"I was worried." He told her, stopping to lightly cup her cheeks between his hands. "I thought you might have..."

"I'm not going to take on a whole camp of CIA and special forces Michael." She dismissed his concerns. "I went for a walk. I was curious about what went on in a secret government training camp that was all. I mean every night there's shooting and helicopters flying over I thought we might be in the middle of a war zone." She took his hands in her own.

"It's a training camp they have to practice night time incursions, escape and evade. Night time rappelling and parachuting." He told her.

"That's what the nice training officer told me. So I thought while we're stuck here it might be fun to join in a few of the lessons. That is until we're allowed to leave. I mean your evil bosses aren't going to keep you here forever."

"No, I imagine they'll want me back sooner rather than later. I'm just getting a bit worried about Sam, I mean he's out there alone." Michael muttered, pulling her into a hug.

"From what you said earlier they're using the rest of us to keep you in line. So Sam should be safe enough." She snuggled against him, and they continued down the trail, her hand sliding into the back pocket of his pants.

**()()()**

_**All pieces of intelligence start out as a series of random documents, it is how all those pieces come together that makes them valuable. **_

Sam's head was reeling at all the information Spencer had managed to find. Admittedly a lot of stuff had come to light because of the investigation caused by the discovery of the NOC list. But this was just so much more. He kept picking up different pages, most of the missions documented were really nasty. A bribe here, led a bombing some place else, or maybe an assassination in return for a favourable trade agreement. No deed was too illegal or immoral if it got the job done. Rubbing a hand over his stubble covered chin, Sam let out groan as he realized he wasn't going to be getting back to his bed.

"Ok Spencer, we need to sort though all these documents." He announced, catching hold of Spencer's arm to stop him moving any more of the pieces of paper around. "First off, let's get this lot in to piles of which continent, then country, and year. That should make it easier to read."

Spencer snatched one piece out of Sam's hand, waving it about. "Did you read this one? A bus load of people in Egypt. A whole bus load. Thirty innocent..."

Sighing Sam grabbed hold of Spencer's face between his hands, stopping is words, and forcing him to make eye contact. "Spencer, it is really important you focus here. Please try, just for me. We have to organize all these documents and then try to verify as much as we can."

"Ok." Spencer mumbled.

Sam let him go, with a pat to his cheek. "Now. Continent, Country, and Year. Understand?"

Spencer nodded, and held up the piece he had taken off Sam. "Africa. Egypt. Two thousand, and one."

"Good, now let's make a start on the rest."

It took two hours but in the end Sam was happy that he had everything organized. "Ok, now the hard work starts. Everything here needs to be cross checked, and the source verified." He took a look at his watch. "Look buddy, I want you to get a few hours sleep, I need you to go back into work today and try to act normally. Remember we don't want to let the bad guys find out about you."

"There is a lot of bad stuff here Sam." Spencer replied quietly, for once sounding calm.

"I know, and it's very important we work out how to stop more bad things happening."

Spencer nodded, there was a tiny niggling thought in the back of his brain telling him that all the things he had read about couldn't have been done by mere humans. He mentally shook himself, no he was not going to go down that route again.

"Are you going to be staying here?" He asked.

"Sure thing Spence, you go get some sleep." Sam answered, guessing the younger man was feeling a bit out of his depth with the massive conspiracy they had just uncovered.

Left to himself Sam made a large pot of black coffee before returning to his task. "You're going to be buying me lunch for a month when you get back Mikey." Sam muttered as he began to try to cross check the information before him. When Spencer got up five hours later, Sam was slumped over the table snoring loudly.

"Er Sam?" Spencer poked the older slumbering man on the arm with a finger.

"Yeeoww!" Sam sat upright, grabbing at the stitched up knife wound that had just been poked. He looked around wildly trying to figure out where he was, and what had happened.

"Geez, Spencer what was that for? I was just resting my eyes." Sam complained.

Spencer looked pointedly at Sam. "I have to go to work."

"Yep." Sam agreed, then noticed the look he was receiving. "You need me to go now?"

Spencer dropped his head, nodding frantically. "I'm sorry Sam I can't have anybody here when I'm gone. You might mess up my stuff I know you mean well but I have a system you see, and you might not..."

"Ok, honest it's ok." Sam got to his feet, and had a stretch trying to get the kinks out of his tired muscles. "I'll take all this stuff with me." He began stacking it all into one neat pile. "Now remember, act normal and no more hacking DOD computer systems."

**()**

Back at the Dearbon hotel Sam fell face down on his bed, he made the decision there, and then that Michael was not just going to buy his lunch for the next month, he was also going to pick up his bar bill as well. A whole night spent going over intelligence reports, with Spencer Watkowski was more than any man should have to bare.

The ringing of the phone made him look up, staring at the object of his displeasure through bloodshot eyes. Now this was bordering on torture. He grabbed up the handset.

"Teresa, this better be good." He grumbled into the mouth piece.

"I'm sorry Mister Axe." Teresa the receptionist replied. She had seen him walk in just over an hour earlier looking like he had been up all night. "But I have a Mister... sorry _Doctor_ Fullerton to see you."

"Dammit." Sam growled as he tried to get to his feet. "Sorry I wasn't talking to you Teresa. Tell _Mister _Fullerton I'll be with him in a little while." He hung up the phone, wondering what the new sociopath in their lives wanted with him.

Before going down to the reception Sam picked up his prepay cell, and made another attempt to get hold of Barry. Sighing with relief when he got an answer. "Hey, I don't know where Fiona is, and the threats, well..." Barry started to complain as soon as he answered his phone.

"Barry!" Sam shouted .

"Sam? Look I'm sorry but I really don't know where Fiona is hiding. So can you please tell Mike to stop harassing me. Some of those threats, I don't think are actually anatomically possible."

"It's ok I'm not calling about Fi." He soothed. "I'm calling cos I need you to look into some accounts for me, you know the deal keep it quiet and we'll owe you big time."

The line went quiet for several seconds, before Barry replied. "Ok, text me the details, just promise you'll get Mike to leave me alone."

"Gotcha." Sam agreed. "I'll text you the numbers now, speak to you later."

Finding the account numbers he was interested in, Sam sent the details to Barry's phone, and then went down in the elevator to find out what, Anson wanted. Just thinking the name made him grind his teeth.

**()**

Sam found Anson waiting for him at a table for two in the restaurant. A look of extreme displeasure on his face.

"Sorry. I had something more important to do first." Sam didn't bother to hide his own displeasure as he took a chair facing Anson.

"Michael is unavailable, and I have a little job that needs doing. So I guess that means you're off the bench." Anson snapped, not wasting any time.

Sam shook his head. "Turn me over to the feds I won't do you're dirty work." He replied his tone frosty in the extreme.

Anson smiled, but it came nowhere near his eyes. "Before you turn me down, why don't you give your girlfriend a call."

"What have you done?" Sam snapped, leaning over the table having to exert all his self control to stop throwing the other man out of the window.

"Call her." Anson's smile didn't falter.

Exasperated Sam dialled Elsa's number. "Hi, ….." He began to talk but she cut him off.

"Sam." He could hear the tension in her voice.

"What's up sweetheart." He turned away from the table. He was going to punch Anson's lights out if he had hurt Elsa.

"I have health inspectors going through everything here. Apparently a whole table of customers from the restaurant came down with food poisoning last night. I can't talk now, I'm sorry but I'm meeting up with the lawyers in ten minutes."

"Is it that serious, I mean a lot of people get..."

"Not like this, two of them are in a critical condition. I've had to close the kitchens. I'm sorry sweetheart I'll call you later I have to go."

Anson sat back totally unconcerned by the look Sam shot him. "Now until Michael gets back I'm going to need you to run some errands. You can start with this one." He dropped a folder on the table. Opening the cover he pointed to a truck. "I want the contents of that truck delivered to my warehouse by tomorrow morning."

"I can't.." Sam pointed to his shoulder, reminding the man of his injury.

"I know, no heavy lifting." He raised a hand and a tall heavy built man walked over. "This is Martin, he is your new best friend. He stays with you until the job is done." Anson got to his feet. "Oh if you slip away from him, Ms Dearbon will have more to worry about than ten guests with food poisoning."

**()()**


	35. Chapter 35

**Out of the Ashes. **

**A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful reviews all of them are greatly appreciated. A special thank you as always to Daisy Day, and Amanda Hawthorn. For Storyfan 101 as promised a new chapter mostly centred on Sam.  
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Chapter Thirty Five,

Sam sat in the passenger seat of his 'new best friend' Martin's ancient Toyota Corolla. On his lap was the folder Anson had given him. As they drove inland towards Doral, he stared out of the window, wondering what the hell he was going to do about it. The truck they were going to steal was in the parking lot of a munitions company, and having read all the intelligence that Spencer had found, Sam had a pretty good idea that whatever was inside, was going to end up being used in a nasty little war somewhere.

Unable to come up with a solution he looked down, and began to flick through the pages of the folder. Sam couldn't help but be impressed at the information before him, for a clinical psychiatrist Anson had managed to produce a pretty decent mission brief. There were full schematics for the building, the alarm systems, and all the utility boxes. Including satellite photos of the buildings, and the surrounding area. On another page was a report on the safety precautions, and response times for a variety of emergency scenarios. Also a list of employees, and a timetable for security sweeps.

As Sam sat admiring Anson's skills as an intelligence officer, something began to occur to him. All the way along this Black ops organization had been high on man power. Working worldwide, with the top people always hidden in the shadows, safely keeping off the radar of all the different intelligence services. But now, the very top person was out in the open running missions, recruiting personnel.

Maybe they really had got all the main players in Anson's group, and the son of a bitch was using them to try to rebuild his organization. Sam thought about all he knew about Anson, as a clinical psychiatrist, he would know how to manipulate people. Sam guessed his role had been similar to that of a corporate head hunter. He found all the spies they needed, and if they weren't already broke he would find ways to break them. To force them to do his will. He probably had no field, or planning experience. So he had to have access to a talented analyst, to work out those details for him. Sam glanced at the man driving the car, but he didn't have such easy access to talented field operatives.

"We're here." Sam was pulled from his thoughts by Martin bringing his Toyota Corolla to a stop across the street from Riker Munitions.

"So why are we here now? Are you planning a daylight assault?" Sam's 'New best friend' asked, reaching over to the glove compartment to retrieve a hand gun, and silencer.

"These aerial photographs are good, but I like to do things old school." Sam explained, looking out of the car window, and then comparing what he saw with what was on the photograph. "When I plan a job I like to actually see the target first hand."

They sat in silence, while Sam checked the details he had been given against what he could actually see himself. The photographs didn't do the guards justice, they were all well armed, and dressed in top of the line protective clothing. Everyone of them looked fit and well trained.

"This is going to be tricky." He muttered. "What exactly are we stealing here?"

"It doesn't matter. Haven't you got a plan yet?" Martin growled back.

"Hey, just give me a minute here." Sam replied, frowning as he reached a decision. "As near as I can work out if an alarm goes off anywhere in that complex, the guards go swarming in."

"So?" Martin began screwing on the silencer on to his hand gun. "That's not a problem."

Sam placed his hand carefully over the top of Martin's gun, pushing it down. "I'm guessing your boss is blackmailing me into running this op because planning it's your strong suit." When he got no response. "What I'm trying to say is this." He spread out the blueprints so he could do a show, and tell.

He pointed out the sprinkler system. "If we can create a diversion in these offices, I'm thinking a smoke bomb to set off the sprinklers. All the guards will rush in to check it out. Giving us a window to tie up the two who will be left watching the gate, and get away with the truck."

Sam thought it seemed like a good plan, however Martin just stared at him dumbly. "How are we getting a bomb in there?" The man finally asked.

Sam bit back the harsh comment that he was about to make. If he had been working this job with Michael and Fiona he wouldn't have had to say any more. Fiona would have produced a smoke grenade from the trunk of her car, and Michael would have been on his phone asking Madeline to provide a distraction. Instead he was working for criminal mastermind, and was having to explain everything in baby steps to his idiot hired gun. He suddenly felt overwhelmed by the loss of his team.

"I don't suppose you have a lady friend who would help us out do you?" He asked Martin, forcing himself to concentrate on the job.

"Doing what?" Came the suspicious reply.

"We need someone to take the smoke grenade inside for us. Someone who looks harmless, who'll they'll let in, to say, use the John." Sam was becoming more and more unhappy about this whole job. He just hoped he wasn't about to drag some innocent woman into danger.

Martin thought about it for a moment, and then got out of the car and made a call. While he was gone, Sam slipped the back off his phone, and removed the battery, and the GPS tracking device that was part of all phones. Quickly dropping both parts into his pocket he put his phone back together. He might have to steal the truck but he would at least be able to keep a track on where it went.

"So you got somebody?" Sam asked, as Martin dropped back into the seat next to him.

Martin nodded. "So, how are we going to get a bomb?"

"We're going to have to shopping. You know where the nearest hardware store is?" Sam looked out of the window as Martin started the Corolla engine. _Damn I miss Fi._ He thought miserably.

**()**

After a trip to the nearest hardware store they drove to an old empty warehouse, it was dirty unlit and had no amenities but it gave Sam all the privacy necessary to set about making a small smoke bomb.

"You do this sort of thing a lot?" Martin asked as he watched Sam work.

Sam cocked his head to the side slightly. "Probably more than most folks."

Shortly after the bomb was ready they watched as an old Ford Taurus pulled up next to the Toyota, and Martin's lady friend stepped out. She turned out to be a twenty something blonde wearing too much make up, and too little clothing.

"I'm not handling no bomb." Were the first words out of her mouth. She stood defiantly in front of the two men, with her hands on her hips.

"It's not a bomb as such, it's full of smoke." Sam tried to explain. "And it's on a timer so you'll be perfectly safe." He added. He held it out to her, and she reluctantly took it off him, holding it like it might explode at any second.

"Marty I don't like this." She whined, moving from one foot to the other nervously.

"Just do as you're told Crystal." He growled back, gripping hold of her arm to stop her turning her away.

Sam felt he needed to intervene. "Honest it's harmless, just smoke. You're going to tell the guard your car broke down, and you need to use the little girls room. You then drop the b- device into the trash under the sprinklers, and leave. Easy peasy."

She wasn't convinced. "Is it safe? I'm mean I'm not going to explode." She pressed.

"No definitely not." Gave her an encouraging grin.

She thought about it for a moment, before turning back to Martin. "Fine I'll do it. But you owe me." She jerked free of Martin's grip, and jabbed him in the chest before walking away.

**()**

Back in the Toyota across the street from the entrance to the munitions company Sam, and Martin watched the latter's girlfriend walk up the street, putting on a very dramatic performance of being in desperate need to use the toilet.

She stood talking to the security guards on the gates, crossing her legs and generally looking uncomfortable until she was eventually allowed inside. Ten minutes later she came back out. Sam was grateful when she remembered to go back the way she had came as if returning to a broken down car.

Martin seemed incredibly proud of his girlfriend. "She's an actress." He boasted.

Sam smiled. "Oh I can believe it brother." He agreed. He looked at his watch, they had another hour before the day staff went home, and then the only people present would be the guards.

**()**

Just after dark Sam, and Martin slipped into dark jackets, and woollen hats then waited for the smoke bomb to go off. When it did they sprung into action. Martin might not have been the smartest of Anson's employees but he knew how to follow orders and how to subdue two armed guards without a sound. Sam was actually impressed with the man's brutal efficiency , the two guards were unconscious, and tied up within seconds.

Quickly hot wiring the truck they were on their way just as the alarm was raised by another guard returning to the gatehouse. Sam was a little surprised when they only drove for ten minutes before Martin pulled into a derelict warehouse. Where there was another truck waiting for them.

"Help me swap the load over." Martin ordered.

"Er I have a wound, I thought you were here for the heavy lifting?" Sam backed away a couple of steps, pointing to his wounded shoulder.

Martin pulled his gun out pointing it straight at Sam's chest. "Help. Swap. The load. Over." He spoke slowly his eyes cold.

Sam paused, not liking the sudden change in the atmosphere. "Sure thing, buddy. You can put the hand cannon away."

He looked inside the truck and saw long wooden crates. Martin slid one towards him. "Get a move on." He glared at Sam and watched as he picked it up.

Carrying the crate over to the other truck, Sam managed to lift the lid enough to see they had stolen brand new semi automatic rifles. Leaving that box, he returned to help move the rest of the stolen goods. He was waiting for the opportunity to plant the tracker he had taken from his phone.

Then as he placed the final crate down he saw Martin was busy on his phone. He quickly slipped the Gps tracker into the nearest crate. He would wait long enough to be sure Anson had taken delivery, then make an anonymous call to the ATF, and if nothing else Anson would lose a truck full of weapons, and he would no longer feel guilty about stealing automatic weapons.

With the last of the weapons loaded, Sam pushed the doors shut, and as he turned he looked straight into the barrel of Martin's gun.

"Sorry old man. But you've got to go." Martin didn't look the least bit sorry.

Already suspecting he wasn't going to get out alive, Sam was on high alert, and the little speech was all the time he needed to throw himself backwards behind the now empty truck, and immediately started scrabbling away as shot after shot came his way. Taking refuge behind a stack of pallets Sam called out.

"Hey! Are you sure your boss wants me dead. I mean I thought I was some sort of leverage."

"This is going to be an accident you were in a bad part of town and got mugged." Martin explained coolly as he put a fresh clip into his handgun.

Sam knew he was in a lot of trouble, if he somehow managed to stop Martin killing him. Anson would take revenge on Elsa, and her hotel guests. Yet he really did not want to die, especially killed by a lowlife hired gun. He started to frantically look around for a way to stay a live but keep everybody else safe as well. His eyes alighted on a whole pile of scaffolding poles. Gritting his teeth Sam opened the wound on his arm, spreading the blood over the side of his face, and over his shirt.

Then he waited until the next volley of shots, and knocked all the poles over and letting out some blood curdling moans buried himself amongst the poles. Then he lay very still, hoping and praying that Martin wasn't the sort to unload his gun into a dead body.

He was in luck, or thought he was until he heard Martin talking on the phone.

"It's done."

"Yes I'm sure, look even if he isn't dead he will be in a minute. I've hit the timer, this place goes boom in ninety seconds, now I need to go."

Sam froze on hearing the words, knowing he couldn't move until Martin actually drove the truck out. If he was seen he would be shot and killed. Finally the truck left the building, and Sam staggered outside, just as the building exploded forcing Sam to the ground with his hands over his head. Getting slowly to his feet cursing, and swearing that he was going to make Michael buy his lunches for the next two months, and pick up his drinks tab for the same as well. Sam staggered away.

As Sam hid from the cops who were flooding the area, he tried to decide where to go. One thing for sure he couldn't go back to the Dearbon. But at least if Anson thought him dead it finally gave them an edge. He just needed to find somewhere to lay low until Michael got back, it was also going to have to be somewhere Michael would be able to find him, now he had dismantled his phone. Thinking about his phone reminded him, in the morning he was calling the ATF. The guns would soon be in Anson's hands, or maybe even on their way to whatever war he was financing.

Finding an old car with minimum security Sam drove back into Miami and went to one place he knew there were a few weapons and some beer. He left the car several streets away and walked the rest of the way to Maddy's he still had her door keys attached to the charger key ring.

Letting himself inside, Sam was surprised to find that the electricity was on. He was sure Michael would have made sure everything was switched off before evacuating Madeline to Las Vegas. Still, it meant he didn't have to go hunting around to switch the power on. He opened the fridge, noticing it looked to have been freshly stocked.

Just as he was reaching the conclusion that he wasn't alone, he heard the click of a round being racked into a pump action shotgun. Slowly closing the door, and keeping his hands in plain sight he found himself staring at Madeline Westen, with a cigarette between her lips and a lethal weapon in her hands.

"God dammit Sam I nearly... What the hell happened to you?" She dropped the gun, and carefully eased him into a chair. Her eyes fixed on his bloody arm.

"Maddy, Geez Mikey said you was in Las Vegas with Nate." Sam pulled his arm free of her grip, and took a long sip from the beer he had just taken from her fridge.

"We're back." She replied flatly as she went hunting for the first aid kit. "Nate got offered a job in Miami, besides they wanted to raise Charlie. Away from Las Vegas." She pulled a box out from one of the Kitchen cabinets, dropping onto the counter next to her guest.

"Miami's safer?" Sam raised an eyebrow, and then winced as she started her own version of first aid.

"So where's my oldest Son?" She asked changing the subject. "Where's Michael?"

**()()**

Agent Kim Pearce was a very unhappy woman. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at the evidence board set up in one corner of her office. Every time she thought she might have a lead it slipped through her fingers.

There had been lots of fingerprints found on the door frame, door handle and on Max's desk. But so far none had come back to anybody who might have been involved in a murder. The secretary who had witnessed a man beside Max's body, was unable to give a clear description of the man. The guard who had been injured trying to bring down Max's murderer had only seen the back of the man and his description matched thousands of men. Tall, athletic build, dark hair dressed in a blue or black suit.

It was a match Michael Westen, but she couldn't find a motive for Westen killing his CIA contact. He was a burnt spy, a questionable asset, and reputed to be unstable. But none of that was enough to get a conviction.

She reached for her phone. "Find Michael Westen for me. It's about time we had a long chat." She flicked her phone shut, and turned her eyes back to the board.

**()()**


	36. Chapter 36

**Out of the Ashes:**

**A/N: Thank you as always Amanda Hawthorn and Daisy Day for reading through the beginning of this chapter. Also thank you to all those people who have reviewed, and added the story to your favourites.**

Chapter Thirty Six,

"So where's my eldest Son? Where's Michael?"

Madeline had long ago got over the surprise of finding Michael's friends wounded, or otherwise breaking into her home in the middle of the night. But when one turned up alone dripping blood over her kitchen floor, it made her worry about what had happened the others.

Sam took another sip of his beer, using the time to think of a reasonable answer. He had faced trained interrogators in unfriendly countries with less fear than he faced Madeline Westen. The woman could have had a great career in counter intelligence.

"Oh he's off doing something for the government. You know what he's like, all hush hush spy stuff." He hoped sounding casual would be enough to distract her, but just in case he added. "So Nate, and Ruth are going to be living in Miami. I bet you're pleased about that?... I mean you'll get to see the grandkid regular." He added nervously.

Madeline drew in a lungful of smoke, then slowly exhaled staring at him through the smoky haze. After a moment Sam broke the stare unable to take the accusing look any longer.

"So, government work huh? And what happened to you?" She asked flatly, examining the torn stitches in his arm.

"Oh this? It was just a misunderstanding, all sorted out now." He then realized he was going to have to tell her more if he was going to get a place to stay. "Well, mostly sorted out. I could do with a place to lay low, you know stay out of sight for a few days."

She finished bandaging his arm, finishing off by narrowly missing spearing him with a safety pin. "Ten days ago Michael shipped me off to Las Vegas." Madeline told him. "And at that time you, and Fiona were _missing._" She was inches off his face now blowing smoke directly into his eyes and nose.

Blinking and trying not to cough, Sam tried to back away but he was pinned in the chair. "Yeah well we're all fine now, no problems. In fact Fiona has gone on vacation for a few days while Mikey's away, and well, I just took on this little job to keep me busy." His words faded off.

She continued to glare at him, then aimed the lighted end of the cigarette straight at his face. "If I find out you're lying to me Sam Axe, I swear I'll stub one of these out in your eye." To make her point she ground the cigarette into the ashtray beside him. At no point did she break eye contact.

Sam gulped. "Maddy, honestly you know as much as me about what's happening. When Michael gets back you can ask him about it."

It was obvious she didn't believe him, but with a huff she turned away. "Stay in the spare bedroom. Lock up before you go to bed, _and don't drink all my beer._" Her bedroom door slammed shut behind her.

Sam leaned back in his chair thinking to himself. _Well that went better than I thought it would._

**()()**

Michael opened his eyes, staring up at the fanlight which gently turned above his head. The room was still bathed in darkness, he glanced over at the clock on the bedside table. It was just after five am, instinctively he reached out for Fiona. Instead of finding the warm soft flesh he craved to touch, his hand fell onto the cold mattress. Shuffling onto his side, he looked across to where she lay wrapped in most of the covers. She had let him into her bed the night before, but had made it very clear being allowed into the bed did not mean back into her good graces. After a chaste kiss to his cheek she had turned her back on him and fallen asleep.

Carefully he reached over to run his fingers through her hair. Just knowing she was there had a calming effect on him. Knowing that she was slowly thawing towards him gave him hope he could make the situation better. He thought about snuggling up against her, like he was used to doing. He yearned to be cocooned in her arms breathing in her scent. He moved a little closer, then stopped himself. Sneaking up on her while she slept was never a good idea, and it definitely would not help him build up the trust he had lost. Sighing he rolled out of the bed, and went to the bathroom. When he came out he noticed the covers had slipped off her upper body. Before leaving the bedroom he gently pulled the sheet over her body, doing his best not to disturb her sleep.

Ten minutes later he was standing outside watching the sunrise over the ocean. As he began to stretch his limbs he couldn't take his eyes off the light show taking place on the horizon, the sky and sea coming to life in a brilliant display of blues, purples and pinks. Tearing his eyes away from the stunning sunrise Michael began to jog away from the cottage and up onto the trail.

Once off the sand and onto the dirt track, Michael increased his speed. At the moment the air felt fresh and cool, but he knew in another hour as the sun rose higher in the sky the whole area would become hot, damp and humid. He kept up a steady pace, not even breaking stride when he came across natural obstacles. Easily clearing fallen branches or patches of mud. Apart from the the sound of his steady breathing, and his footfalls on the dirt track the only other noise came from the waking birds and the buzz of the insects.

He rounded a corner, and saw the obstacle course in the distance, the tall 'A' frame made of wooden supports and thick ropes standing out clearly in amongst the long grass and shrubs. He decided at that moment he needed more than just a run to clear his head, he needed a bit of challenge. It had been years since he had run one of these courses. Leaving the trail he cut straight through the trees and tangled undergrowth to the reach the obstacle course.

Nearing the start line he slowed, and caught his breath. It was then he heard the crack of a foot on a twig, and turned to see Fiona dressed in lycra shorts and a sports bra, her face flushed from the run. He couldn't stop his eyes focusing at where a line of sweat ran down the front of her top disappearing between her breasts.

"Fi?" He queried, as she ran passed him.

"Come on then." She called back, as she vaulted over a five foot high wooden wall with the grace of a gymnast.

Grinning with the thought of a competition Michael gave chase. Easily catching up with her, they kept pace with each other over, under or through each obstacle in their path. Until they reached the 'A' frame, half way up Michael began to pull ahead.

"Tired Fi?" He looked down at her a smirk on his face.

Fiona didn't answer immediately, that self satisfied smirk was really a step too far. She stretched up wrapping her hand around the ankle of Michael's boot, and forced his leg through the ropes. Then, as he leaned down to free himself she climbed passed treading on his fingers on the way to the top.

"You should watch your footing Michael." She sang out as she started down the other side.

She was waiting for him at the finishing line, her arms crossed over her chest, and grin spread over her face.

"A little slow there Michael." She slipped her arms around one of his, hanging on his bicep. "Maybe you need to up your cardio vascular workout."

"You cheated." He replied, pulling her fully against his body. "Do you want to go again?"

She looked up at him breathing deeply her lips slightly parted. "No. I want breakfast. Come on." She started dragging him back towards the cottage.

She had woken as soon as Michael had reached across to run his fingers through her hair, and it had taken all her self control at that moment not to turn over and invite him into her arms. Yesterday had been a reminder of what they had lost. An ability to enjoy life, of taking whatever little bit of pleasure they could get, and making the most of it. But with all the stress and strain they had faced in the last few months they had lost that spark.

When he had disappeared outside she had followed him just for the hell of it, wondering how far he would go, how fast he would run to escape whatever demon had woken him from his sleep. Now as they walked back to the cottage she knew he was tiring, his steps slowing. They were still hand in hand as they entered the cottage.

"Do you want to shower first?" He offered placing a kiss on her forehead. They were both covered in a mixture of sweat, and mud.

"No you go." Fiona replied, stroking a thumb over his stubble covered cheek. She watched him walk into the bedroom stripping off the green t shirt he had been wearing. Watching the play of his muscles in his back, and shoulders.

Stepping under the warm spray of water, Michael sighed, and began to soap away all the debris picked up on the assault course. Whatever else he thought about Raines, his old boss was right about this, he needed a chance to recharge. He had been surviving on adrenaline, and stress to the point where he was close to breaking down completely. Now he was just weary, his mind, and body demanding rest.

A shift in the curtain behind him, caused him to turn his head as Fiona joined him. Her hands gently massaging the tension out of his shoulders, and then down his back. As her hands massaged and rubbed his lower back he turned to face her, surprised at this sudden change in her actions.

"Fi?" He asked, one of his hands on her waist, while the other cupped her cheek tenderly.

"Sorry, but I couldn't wait." Her fingers played softly on his chest making patterns in the soap that was running off his body.

He sucked in a breath, his eyes darkening as he surveyed her naked body. "Are you sure?" His voice was husky, his arm tightened around her waist, and he dipped his head down drawing her into a kiss.

"Positive." She growled back, pushing him under the water, and against the wall as she lay kisses across his chest, and under his chin.

**()**

Michael walked out of the bedroom, towelling his hair dry, his eyes fixed on Fiona's tiny figure as she finished making a pot of tea.

"I thought you were going to rest?" She commented, noticing that he must have picked up some shorts while they were in the compound the day before.

"I can rest outside with you." He replied coming to stand behind her, his arms making their way around her waist as he nibbled on her ear.

"Ok, you take these out." She slipped from his embrace and handed him the two cups of tea she had just finished making. "I'll find us something to eat."

Outside she joined him on one of the sun loungers climbing on to lay next to him, wriggling until he lifted his arm so she could snuggle against him with her head on his shoulder. She dropped a bowl onto his lap filled with a variety of fruit. For a short while they lay without talking, just sipping their tea, and picking at the fruit.

"So how about a visit to the gun range today." Fiona broke the silence stretching over him, to put her empty cup back on the table. "It's been days since I shot at anything."

"Kay." He agreed, his fingers playing idly with her hair. "But aren't you taking another class today?" He grinned, remembering the rapt attention the recruits had given her the day before.

"Yes making a IED out of common chemicals found in the kitchen." She grinned back at him. "Do you remember the first time I showed you how to do that?"

He showed a full row of teeth. "Yes, but if you remember I improved on your design."

She dug her elbow into his side causing him to grunt, and the fruit bowl to jump. "Anybody ever tell you, you're a sore loser Glenanne?" He drew her even closer, and kissed her cheek.

"Don't you know, I never lose. I just occasionally let you think you've won that's all." She snatched a kiss, catching his lower lip between her own.

"You cheated." He told her, snatching the grape from between her fingers.

"It's not _my_ fault _you_ weren't paying attention." Sitting up she shuffled back. "I'm going to go for a swim. You look like you need a sleep." It was true, he looked happy and relaxed, but tired. The fact he didn't argue when she got to her feet told her she was right.

She left him to snooze on the sun lounger while she ran towards the water and a refreshing swim. When she came back and after rubbing herself dry with a towel she joined him again.

"I think I could get used to this." He sighed, moving over to make room for her.

She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow in a question.

"I mean it. My money is no longer frozen any more. Just laying around relaxing nobody trying to kill me, or blackmailing me into doing black ops. It's nice." He explained.

"And you would be climbing the walls within a week." She scoffed.

"Not if you there with me." He twirled a piece of her hair around his finger.

"If I was there with you. We'd be trying to kill each other within two weeks. Besides this, what we're doing now is because the man who wants you to run black ops. Wants you here." She answered.

He didn't answer, she was right of course. After a while she turned on her side, draping a leg over the top of his. "It's nice to know you're thinking about a future for us together." She began to draw circles over his chest with her fingers.

He looked down at her, his fingers skimming across the exposed flesh of her back, his eyes studying her face. He looked nervous. "I can't imagine a future without you." He told her quietly.

She sucked in a breath at his words, this more than the desperate needy, and clingy endearments she had grown used to. When she didn't answer him immediately he looked even more nervous.

"I mean it Fiona, I may have trouble showing you, how much you mean to me. But, I need you."

"You have me." She eventually replied. "You always have, you've just been too pig headed to realize it." She soothed his hair back away from his face, it only struck her now how long it was getting. Lifting the strands between her fingers she studied his face from different angles. "You need a hair cut." She informed him.

"When we get back."

He took her hands into his and moved on the lounger so they lay face to face, his mouth closing over hers in a long kiss.

**()()**

Special agent Kim Pearce looked up, at the sound of a knock on her office door. "Yes?" She snapped.

It had taken her a full day to track down Michael Westen's whereabouts, only to be told he was being held at training camp, and could not be brought back to Miami without clearance from Director Raines. She had spent the last hour of her day trying to get to speak to the director, or one of his personal assistants. All to no avail the words of his secretary still rang in her ears. _"Director Raines is in meetings all week. If you put your request in writing I'm sure you will get a reply in due course."_

The door opened and one of her subordinate agents stuck his head inside. "You have a visitor ma'am. A Mrs Shepherd."

Pearce sucked in a breath, wondering what on earth would bring this particular woman into a CIA field office, especially the Miami field office.

"It's ok Charles, send her in." Pearce was on her feet, a welcoming smile in place as her guest entered.

"Kim." The woman was slim, dressed in pale blue linen pants and a cream coloured sleeveless blouse. Short curly brown hair, topped a usually open friendly face. Today though large dark glasses covered her blue eyes and a large part of her features.

"Melissa what are you doing here? If there was something you needed you should have rung." Pearce spoke her voice full of concern. She pointed to a chair. "Please sit down."

"I wanted to see you, I – I was going through Max's things and..." She lifted her dark glasses and wiped her eyes. She reached into her handbag. "I have something for you."

"You don't have to do this now. You should be with your family, with Josh." Pearce spoke kindly, handing Max's widow a tissue.

Melissa shook her head, and brought a flash drive from inside her bag. "I found this amongst Max's things." She sniffed. "I'm sorry, I took a look at it I didn't know what it was." She paused. "I think it's what he was working on before he was killed." She took a moment to pull herself together. "When you look at it you'll see why I've brought it to you personally."

Pearce took the drive, and placed it down on her desk. Max's death had been hard on the young woman sat before her. They had only had their first child three months earlier, Max had been working domestic cases so he could stay close to home. Doing the type of work that allowed him to go home on a regular basis, and supposedly stay out of danger.

"Thank you, where are you staying?" Max's funereal was in two days time, she should have been at home in Langley. Not in Miami, dealing with emptying Max's rented apartment.

"I'm here with my mom, we've been clearing his apartment in Miami before heading back home tonight. Josh is with Max's parents." She was glancing around Kim Pearce's office, thinking how much it reminded her of Max's at Langley. "I should go." She got to her feet. "That drive. Don't look at it here. Take it home, and don't tell anybody else about it unless you're sure you can trust them."

"I'll look at it as soon as I get home." Pearce promised as they left the office, walking back to the elevator. "Melissa I promise you I'll find Max's killer, and bring whoever it is to justice."

"Just be careful. I think what I saw on that drive is what got Max killed." Melissa warned, as the doors slid open and she stepped inside.

Pearce stared at the elevator doors, thinking about Melissa's warning. The younger woman had worked for military intelligence before she married Max. If what she had found caused her to give out such a strong warning, she was going to pay attention.

**()**

Pearce had rented a tenth floor beach front apartment, it was at the top end of her budget, even allowing for the housing allowance she received from the CIA. But she rarely went out, instead preferring to spend her time with her dog. Letting herself inside she was greeted by scrabbling paws, and wagging tail of her hyperactive pitbull bitch Sadie. "Hey girl." She bent down to scratch the dog behind the ears. "Are you all alone?" A quick walk around the apartment assured Pearce she was alone, not that she thought Sadie would let anyone break in, and remain in one piece.

Slipping off her shoes she took the drive out of her pocket and plugged it into her laptop. Then after switching on her I pod filling the room with the mellow tones of contemporary jazz, she went searching through the kitchen for the bottle of red wine she had bought when she first arrived in Miami. Once she was settled down on the couch, with Sadie curled up at her side and a glass of wine in her hand she began to look at the evidence Melissa had handed over.

Two hours later she was still staring at the screen. So much of what she was looking at was circumstantial, but there was no arguing that Max had been murdered just after he had started his investigation. She tried think of what she knew about Donald Raines, surely if he was part of the conspiracy he would have done his best to protect the other members. Not allowed them to be swept up by the FBI, and CIA.

Swirling the dregs of wine left in her glass, she wondered how she might get hold of Donald Raines phone records, without his knowledge. It would not be easy, Max had made the mistake of using CIA computers. In the end she switched off the laptop, and got another glass of wine. One thing was clear she needed to talk to Michael Westen, there had to be a reason for Raines hiding him away in Costa Rica. Tomorrow she would demand Westen was returned from the training camp he was being held in. She would argue he was a person of interest in her investigation, and she needed to ask him some questions.

**()()**

"So you killed Sam Axe?" Anson was sat at a table in the busy Sunrise bar and grill looking over Lummus park.

Martin, Sam's 'ex-best friend' sat facing the older, and far weaker man. He felt confident in his answer, and in his ability to protect himself if he was wrong. "He was down, buried under a pile of scaffolding poles when I blew the place." He answered.

Anson smiled grimly. "Really, so the merchandise getting picked up by the ATF before it reached international waters wasn't your fault?"

"How could it be? It must have been somebody on the boat." Martin hissed. Well aware they were in a crowded place.

"Maybe because the call mentioned a cell phone Gps which had been dropped in with the goods. The Gps from a phone belonging to Sam Axe."

Martin paled at the words. "It's not my fault." He muttered.

Anson smiled. "No, of course not." He held out a hand. "No hard feelings." As Martin shook his hand, Anson produced a small syringe in the other hand. Martin barely felt a scratch.

Two minutes after Anson walked away, Martin started to have trouble breathing. He clutched at his chest and then before help could arrive died slumped over the table.

**()()**


	37. Chapter 37

**Out of the Ashes.**

**A/N: A big thank you to all those who have reviewed. And a special thanks to Daisyday and Amanda Hawthorn for reading through the first part of this chapter for me. **

Chapter thirty seven.

"Are you sure ma'am? We have a smaller model available. It's not as powerful, but you might find it easier to ride." The officer in charge of the motor pool swallowed nervously at the narrow eyed stare he was receiving.

"No. Thank you." Fiona smiled through gritted teeth, as she pulled on a pair of thick gloves. "After all, it's not as if I can get hurt now is it?" She flicked the visor down on her crash helmet.

Deep down she felt a tiny sliver of pity for the the young man stood before her, she guessed he was only trying to be helpful. But having to wear full protective clothing for her motorcycle ride, in the heat of the day was infuriating. And now this idiot, was concerned that while she was sitting on the motocross bike the only part of her feet that reached the ground was her tiptoes.

"Ma'am that's a very heavy machine, very powerful...I mean.." His words beginning to falter under the stony gaze of the tiny woman facing him.

"It's fine we can manage." Michael butted in, tipping the visor of his crash helmet down. It was his fault they were being forced to wear padded jackets, pants and boots. Or to be more precise it was his doctor's fault. With the shooting ranges unavailable they had strolled over to where a row of motocross motorbikes were being worked on by the camp mechanics. When they asked to take two of the machines out they were told it was in his file, in large red letters. No activities that might result in another head injury. The only way they were going to be allowed out on the motorbikes was in full protective clothing.

As the man stepped back admitting defeat, Fiona pushed the start button, and as soon as the bike roared to life she set off, the front wheel rising off the ground as she twisted the throttle fully open.

Sending the guard a sympathetic look Michael set off after her across the compound, and onto the scrub land that was being used to train recruits on riding across country. Increasing her speed Fiona led the way, sliding around obstacles and flying up and down the small dips and hills.

Eventually coming to a stop on a piece of open flat ground, lifting her visor she smiled across at Michael all signs of her previous bad mood gone. "Do you think you can catch me Michael?" She asked, the light of competition in her eyes.

"Sure, I'm ready for you this..." He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence as she left him in a cloud of exhaust smoke, her weight forward over the handle bars trying to keep the front wheel of her bike down as she sped away.

Snapping down the visor Michael gave chase, she was not going to beat him this time. Hoping the CIA doctors didn't get to see what he was doing, he recklessly sent the bike up a steep slope so he could come down on the other side, inches off the back of Fiona's bike.

They weaved in and out of the trees sailing over rocks and broken branches laying in their path. Michael managed to come up along side her, determined that she wasn't going to win the race. As he came level she kicked out with her heavy boot trying to make him back off. Instead he used his weight and pushed back forcing her towards a large thicket. He came to a stop as Fiona's bike crashed into the bush and stalled.

Raising his visor Michael smirked. "I win." He stated, smugly.

Fiona glared at him, and managed to back the bike out of the bush. Restarting the engine she set off again. "Best out of three Michael!" she shouted back.

Cursing under his breath he gave chase for a second time, staying close behind her this time as she blocked his every attempt to pass her. So instead he began to push her to go faster, letting his front wheel nudge her rear wheel. Also making half hearted attempts to overtake.

_Sometimes rather than trying to win, it's far easier to push your opponent into making a mistake. _

The thrill of the chase was fuelling his prey drive as he pushed her harder and harder, forcing her to ride faster to keep him from passing. Then her front wheel hit a large exposed tree root and the motorbike came to an abrupt stop sending her sailing over the handle bars. Seeing her limp body laying in the long grass he thought he had gone too far. Coming to a stop, he jumped off his bike letting the machine fall to the ground with the engine still running. Pulling his crash helmet off, just as she did the same, relief flooding through his body when he realized she wasn't hurt.

"I win." He smiled down, thinking how beautiful she looked laying there with her hair fanned out about her head.

"Three out of Five Michael." She held up a hand so he could help her up.

"And I'll beat you again, Fi." He sounded so sure of himself Fiona felt the need to put him back in his place. Or at least on his back, she knocked his legs out from under him. As he fell she pounced, landing astride his hips, and her hands on his shoulders pinning him down.

For a second they just gazed at each other, both them breathing deeply.

"Three out of five Michael, or maybe I should just kick your ass now." Her voice, a low throaty growl as she leaned further over him, her mouth inches from his, her body rocking over his hips a promise of what was to come. They were so wrapped up in each other they didn't hear the two men approaching their position.

One of the men coughed. "Sir! Agent Westen!"

Fiona paused, and they both looked up at the two men staring down at them.

"Yes?" Michael managed to say, unable to hide his grin.

"You have a call from Langley." The man replied his expression totally blank.

**()()**

Fiona woke up laying on Michael's lumpy old mattress, and wrapped up in one of his worn cotton sheets. Opening her eyes fully she rolled onto her side frowning at the sight of the crumbling paint covered walls and the faint smell of gun oil and high explosive. Normally she loved waking up to those smells it gave her a sense of home. But not today. Today she found herself missing the large comfortable bed and luxurious bed linen of the private cottage they had left less than twelve hours earlier.

After Michael had taken the phone call from Langley he had returned dressed in his own clothes and told her he was being called back to Miami to answer some more questions. An hour later they were on a helicopter flying north heading back home. By the time they arrived at the loft it was the middle of the night, and they had fallen straight into bed. She had spent a restless night, wondering what new troubles the day would bring. Michael had slept at her side, his breathing slow and even, seemingly unconcerned about his meeting with Pearce.

With a groan, and a stretch Fiona sat up. "Hey."

He turned to face her, finishing off buttoning his white dress shirt before moving to drop down onto the bed next to her. "Hey." He replied softly cradling her head in one of his hands he drew her in to a long deep kiss.

"Do you have to go? I mean what does this agent Pearce want?" She rubbed her cheek against the palm of his hand, enjoying the feel of his work roughen palm on her skin.

"I'll be fine. She just wants to talk to me about what happened to Max." He tried to hide his own concerns about the meeting. Wondering what Pearce had that would overrule Raines order for him to stay at the training camp for three weeks.

"What if she's found some new evidence?" Fiona shuffled round so she could lay her head on his chest, breathing in the musky scent of his aftershave.

He shook his head. "I didn't kill Max, the only evidence is what Anson and Raines hold, and for the time being they need me." He lifted her chin so he could plant another kiss on her lips.

Finally with a sigh he got to his feet. "I have to get ready Fi."

Watching him pick up a tie, she realized nothing she said was going to stop him going to the meeting. "Ok go, but be careful, and while you're gone I'll try to find out what Sam's up to."

Michael had been trying to call Sam ever since he had got his phone back, but it continuously went to voice mail. "If you can't find Sam, you should try that aliens are among us guy. Spencer, Sam said about using him to get into government computers. He might know something." Michael added as he finished getting ready to leave.

She nodded. "Just promise me you'll be careful." She couldn't tell him how scared she was. The last three days had been so good, but she knew all that could be ruined just by him coming under too much stress.

"You too." He replied, returning to her side for a parting kiss.

She watched the door close and then got up, time to find Sam and find out what really had gone on since she left them both on the roof of the Bal Harbour parking garage.

**()**

Michael came to a stop outside Agent Pearce's office, he paused with his hand raised to knock. From inside the room he could hear her voice raised in anger.

"_**I want answers, not excuses. Langley is all over my ass over this, and you've brought me **__**nothing. Forensics haven't come up with anything... No, nothing...I can't believe all the **__**fingerprint evidence has been compromised. Find out what happened... Get back to me when **__**you've got something... It better be soon." **_

The sound of a phone being slammed down was Michael's cue to rap on the door with his knuckles.

"Come in." Pearce snapped.

Michael entered to find Pearce sat behind her desk, a desk that was piled with files, and loose pieces of paperwork. "What, the CIA can't afford filing cabinets?" He quipped gesturing at her desk.

"Shut the door and sit down Westen." She ignored his question, as she massaged her temples. "Sorry, for ruining your vacation." She looked up at him, he looked rested, and more relaxed than the last time she had seen him. His well turned out, calm demeanour irritating her even more than the lack of concrete evidence on Max's killer.

Michael closed the door and took the offered chair, crossing one leg over the other, getting himself comfortable. "Vacation? I thought I was just being kept out of the way until you needed me." He answered easily.

"Oh if it had been up to me, I would have had you back here a lot sooner. You have a very good friend in Director Raines, he took a lot of convincing before I got permission to bring you back. You must have done some good work for him in the past."

"He recruited me from Special forces. And was my agency handler when I first went freelance." Michael shrugged.

"So he just contacted you out of the blue, and offered you a vacation spot?"

"You would have ask him." He answered.

She was obviously suspicious about Raines motives. But how to bring it up, if he was wrong he would have shown his hand. Burnt spies did not go about accusing CIA directors of being traitors. Not if they wanted to stay out of Guantanamo Bay.

"I'm asking you." She replied and then changed subject abruptly, snatching up one of the loose pieces of paper on her desk. "Oh, the security guard who was injured trying to capture Max's murderer. Has finally given us a description of the killer." She read off the sheet. "A white male approximately six feet tall, dark hair, athletic build and dressed in a suit. Does that description sound familiar to you?"

"I would imagine it matches about half the men in this building. If that's all you've got, you'll be questioning a lot of people... Agent Pearce, am I first on your list?" He smiled.

"You're right up there, near the top. It's just a shame the fingerprints have been tainted, and the security cameras all went down. I'm beginning to think it's somebody with contacts high up in the agency who can pull strings. What do you think?"

And there it was, the accusation. She suspected he was guilty of Max's murder, and that Raines was protecting him. He felt a wave of anxiety wash over him. If he failed to convince her of his innocence he would fail all his friends. If he was locked up, Anson and Raines would have no reason to protect the people who helped to destroy their covert operation.

"Why somebody from the agency? Wouldn't any decent contract killer know to remove fingerprints, and knock the cameras off line?" He answered, sitting forward in his chair.

Pearce smiled, shuffling the mess on her desk top. Leaning forward to match his body language she looked him squarely in the eye. "You've forgotten. The killer was disturbed retrieving the murder weapon, he had no time to wipe down the surfaces. But all the prints that went to forensics have comeback tainted, and before we had the chance to get back in and take new samples, someone ordered the room to be cleaned. That all points to an inside man wouldn't you say? Somebody in the agency who had a beef with Max."

"Look, I didn't know Max that well but, he seemed like a good guy. Why would anybody in the agency want him dead?"

"That's what I'm working on now. Are you sure he never mentioned anything about a case he was working?"

"No. I worked two jobs with him that's all. We didn't really have time to discuss his previous case load."

Pearce decided to take a chance. "What about somebody from that rogue organization of burnt spies? Is there anybody left who might have been looking for retribution for the death of Robert Devereux?"

Michael froze, somehow he managed to keep his expression neutral. "No. You got them all."

**()()**

Anson Fulllerton was not convinced Sam Axe was dead. For one there was no corpse to be identified, and two, the man he had used for the job turned out to be an incompetent fool. The mercenary recommended to him by Donald Raines had delivered the guns as ordered but had failed to make sure Axe stayed away from the weapons. Somehow the ex SEAL had managed to plant a tracker amongst the boxes and the boat had been stopped by the ATF before they even got into international waters.

So for the third day in a row he was sat outside the Dearbon hotel waiting to see if Axe would come looking for his girlfriend, or if the girlfriend would go looking for him. While he sat there, he opened up one of the many files he had in his briefcase and continued to make plans for his future safety. He was creating a long list of things for Michael Westen to do when he returned. Anson was determined that when he went back into hiding he would be safe and secure, with nobody left alive who knew who he was, or what he had done.

It was as he sat there he saw the delicate form of Fiona Glenanne get out of a sports car and stroll into the reception of the hotel. Sucking in a deep breath Anson brought out the file marked Glenanne and checked the attached photograph against the woman who had disappeared inside the large glass doors of the hotel.

Reaching for his phone he pressed the number for his new partner. "It's me." He snapped when Raines answered. "When did you plan on telling me Westen and his girlfriend were back in Miami?"

"I've been busy, I haven't had the time to call. I had to bring them both back, I was getting pressure from the agent in charge of a murder investigation in Miami. Don't worry the reports I've received say they've made up. She slept at Westen's loft last night."

Anson paused, Glenanne was on her way out of the hotel. "Keep me informed in future...I think we should meet, work out our communication difficulties. I'll meet you tonight..."

"I can't leave DC." Raines butted in.

"Fine. I'll come up to DC. I'll call you later to tell you where and when." Snapping his phone closed Anson got out of his car.

He reached Fiona's car just as the engine started, coming up to the driver's side window he knocked on the glass, and leaned down.

"Fiona Glenanne? My name is Anson Fullerton." He introduced himself when she rolled the window down.

"What do you want?" She demanded, her hand vanishing into the open hangbag laying next to her.

"Ah, so Michael has told you about me. That's what I like to see, trust and openness it's so important in a loving relationship don't you agree?" He smirked, as she drew her gun out of her bag and placed it on her lap. "I wouldn't do anything foolish dear. I'm sure he's told you what happens to all of you if anything happens to me."

Fiona bit her lip, but refrained from following her natural inclination to shoot the pompous rodent leaning on her car. "So why are you here?" She asked stiffly.

He smiled at her unconcerned by her obvious dislike. " I want you to tell Michael to meet me at three pm at the Bayside Diner." He looked her and down, before adding. "It's been a pleasure to finally meet you."

He walked away, pleased with how the meeting went. She had looked worried, so it was obvious she didn't know where Axe was, the fact she came to the hotel told him she probably hadn't even realized he was missing. Maybe the idiot mercenary had done something right after all.

**()()**

Michael opened the loft door, to find Fiona sitting at the work bench. The air full of the acrid scent of solder. He walked over to see what she was making, frowning at the sight of a small Gps tracker, and a listening device laying before her, already finished.

"What's this?" He asked picking up the bug, turning it over in his hand.

"Sam's missing, he's been gone for four days." She informed him flatly.

"Gone?" Michael paled, dropping the bug, and moving to her side.

"Four days ago he had breakfast with a Doctor Fullerton and a younger man the receptionist had never seen before. Then he left with the younger man and hasn't been seen since. Elsa is calling the hotel everyday waiting to hear from him. She isn't happy, a load of her customers were treated for food poisoning the evening before Sam disappeared."

She watched him closely worried about how he would take the news. Worried that he would stop her helping him, and run off without thinking. She didn't want to tell him about Anson, it was unfair having to load him down with so much bad news in one go.

"But that's not all." She spoke reluctantly. "When I came out of the hotel, there was a man waiting for me, he said he was Fullerton."

Michael's head came up at her words. "What did he want?" He took hold of her, his eyes scanning every inch of her. "Did he hurt you?"

"Oh please." She scoffed, as if that little weasel of a man could hurt her. "He was just introducing himself. He gave me a message for you. To meet him at the Bayside diner at three."

Michael's mind was working furiously. "Did he follow you to the hotel? Or was he already there?" The questions came out in a jumble. Letting go of her arm he paced back and forth in front of her, his head bowed in thought. "If he was already there it might mean he was waiting for Sam." He muttered, turning over every possibility.

Finally he stopped. "I have to go that meeting. Maybe I can get him to tell me about what's happened to Sam."

She smiled, sliding off the stool she had been sitting on, to catch hold of his arm. "That's what I made these are for." She told him.

"What are you talking about?" He stared into her eyes.

"You wear the bug, record what he wants to do, while I put the tracker on his car." She smiled triumphantly.

"Fi." He stroked his hands up and down her arms. "If he realizes what we're doing."

She reached up, her hand cupping his cheek. Since when had he been so unsure of himself? "You get proof he is blackmailing you, and then you go to this agent Pearce. Hand everything over to the CIA turn him into their problem."

He shook his head. "Fi, he has evidence that implicates me in murder, and you in a bombing campaign. Even if they arrest him we won't walk away clean."

"Ok, maybe I made it sound too simple. But if we can get enough to show he is the evil mastermind behind Management and Vaughn, will you take it to the CIA?"

Michael bit his lip. "Let's see what happens at this meeting" He felt out of his depth, the old frustrations beginning to surface. He turned away to gnaw on his thumb while he thought things through.

"Michael?" Fiona came up to his side, stroking his arm.

"No. I'm fine Fi. It's just so much to deal with." He pulled himself together, decisions made. "We'll try it your way. I'll go to the meeting. You trail him afterwards. If we can get some decent evidence together I'll go to Pearce and give her the lot if that's what you want."

Fiona nodded. "While I trail Anson you try to find Sam. I came back here straight after seeing Anson. I didn't want to risk leading him anywhere else."

**()**

Fiona arrived at the Bayside diner half an hour before the meeting. Setting up in a nearby parking lot with a view of the front of the diner. She watched as Michael turned up twenty minutes later, and then Anson pulled up in a plain silver sedan further down the street. She waited for him to go inside, and then went to plant the tracker.

Michael sat at a table at the back of the diner, from where he could keep an eye on the whole room. He watched Anson approach, barely acknowledging the man when he sat down at the table opposite him.

"So what did Agent Pearce want?" Anson asked as he sat down.

"None of your business." Michael replied flatly.

"It is my business. Everything you do is important to me Michael. You're my favourite employee." Then his tone changed. "So I'll ask again, what did Agent Pearce want?"

"To ask me about the recent work I did for the agency." Michael replied, playing the good soldier. In his mind he was going through all the ways he could kill Anson, while sat in a near empty diner.

Anson slid an envelope across the table. "Inside you will find the schematics of a CIA evidence facility, an ID card identifying you as an employee and a keycard to get you into the evidence lockers. I want the disc you took from the bank safe deposit box for Management. It's being held there. I'll give you a full day to get it."

"I'll be dealing with more than just a key lock, and guards. What other security am I looking at?" Michael demanded.

Anson twitched his lips. "I can't be expected to do your job for you. That's why I'm giving you a full day so you have time to do your research." He got to his feet. "Oh by the way your mom is back in town along with your brother, and his family. You should go visit. They're all worried about you."

Michael stayed in his chair after Anson walked off, the envelope laying on the table before him. He glanced at the ID card, an idea forming in his head. It required a leap of faith. Not something he was keen on doing especially with his friends and family's lives on the line.

**()**

Fiona kept glancing at the screen which showed her the route Anson was taking to his next appointment. She followed him at a distance, a pleased smirk coming to her face when he stopped in a residential district. Speeding up she made it just in time to see him disappear through a gate into a large apartment complex. Studying the outside she drove around the perimeter, and realized there had to be at least three hundred units inside. At least they had narrowed down where he was staying to a few hundred apartments. It was a start.

Hearing her phone ringing, Fiona stopped to answer the call. "Yes Michael?"

"My mom's back I'm going over to the house, meet me there?"

**()()**


	38. Chapter 38

**Out of the Ashes:**

**A/N: Thank you as always Amanda Hawthorn and Daisyday for reading through the beginning of this chapter. Also thank you to those people you reviewed, and have added the story to your favourites.**

Chapter Thirty eight,

Michael froze at the bottom of the steps leading to his mother's front door. The last time he had been inside, he had terrorized her into leaving. He knew she inside now, her car was on the drive a quick glance at his watch told him it was nearly time for her favorite afternoon soap opera. She would be making a cup of coffee, and preparing for an afternoon in her sun room with the TV.

Taking a deep breath he walked up the steps pausing again when he pushed his key in the lock. What he wanted to do was run in the other direction, how could he face her, he had done the one thing he swore he would never let happen. He had allowed himself to become a carbon copy of his father. After another moment of hesitation he finished unlocking the door and pushed it open.

"Hey Sam." He spoke calmly, noticing the gun in his best friend's hand which was still pointed at him. "You expecting someone else?"

Putting the gun away, Sam acted equally as casual. "Hey Mikey good to see you. What happened to your vacation?"

"It was cut short." Michael was looking passed Sam to where his mother stood in the hallway, clutching her pump action shotgun. "Ma." He spoke softly, staring at her unsure of his welcome.

Madeline froze for a second, then put the shotgun down before coming towards him, a beaming smile on her face. She wrapped him in a tight embrace. Burying her head into his chest, smiling to herself when his arms moved to return her hug. After a moment she pulled back, to look him over more closely. He looked better, more like the son she had come to know since his forced return to Miami, and less like the monster that had dragged her out of the house two weeks ago, and left her alone in a motel next to the airport.

"How are you?" She asked her voice full of concern.

"Fine." He saw her frown, and added. "I'm getting better, honest." He gave her a soft smile gently running his hands up and down her arms. "Ma. Me and Sam have got to talk... Do you mind?" He was already compartmentalizing their issues until he could deal with them later.

Madeline took another step back, and looked her son up and down for a second time. He definitely looked better than he had done the last time she had seen him. Then again the last time she had been in his company he had been on the point of a breakdown. She nodded and looked at her watch. "I'm going to watch my programmes. In my room." She spoke flatly. "Don't forget to let me know when it's safe to return."

Neither man moved until Madeline had left the room then Sam handed Michael a beer from the fridge and they sat down at the table facing one another. "So why are you back, so soon?" Sam asked.

"Agent Pearce, the one investigating Max's death wanted to see me." He answered, then fixed Sam with a serious stare. "A couple of things came clear to me while I was away."

He told Sam about how he was sure Raines was involved with Anson. About how after his meeting with Pearce he was sure that Max must have found out about Raines and that was what had got him killed.

"Anson and Raines together, man what are you going to do?" Sam emptied the bottle in his hand and went to get another.

Michael rubbed his head, messing up his hair. "Fiona doesn't want me to do anything for Anson. She wants me to take everything to Agent Pearce instead and lay out all the evidence in front of her."

"I thinks she's right, that slimy piece of garbage tried to have me killed." Sam told him.

Michael's head shot up. "What!"

"It's why I'm hiding out here. Straight after you left, Anson turned up at the hotel threatening to ruin Elsa's business if I didn't help one of his men steal a shipment of arms. We did the job and then his man tried to kill me."

"Why would he want you dead Sam?" Michael took a long gulp of his beer. Trying to wrap his head around what had gone on while he was away.

"Because he doesn't need me. He has you under his thumb just by threatening Fi. While I'm alive, I'm just another problem he has to have watched." It was the only reason could come up with. Anson had limited resources he was trying to keep things small. That way he could keep control.

Michael leaned back in the chair, they had to go with Fiona's plan now. It was the only option. His mind immediately moved onto how to hand everything over to Pearce, and at the same time keep everyone safe.

"Mike." Sam spoke again. "I have a ton of stuff Spencer managed to dig up on Anson's organization, it might help Pearce discover who else is involved. But it's all in the penthouse. Most of it's really nasty stuff, makes what Barrett was doing look small time." Sam stopped talking to study his friend who looked to have gone off into a world of his own. "Mikey, you can't do his dirty work, sooner or later he'll have you …."

"Ok Sam I get it." Michael snapped, banging the empty beer bottle on the table. "Regardless, if I do his dirty work or not Anson isn't going to keep his word. Just give me a minute." Michael started to massage his temples, a wave of nausea threatening to send him back into the same state he had been in a week ago.

They both looked up as Fiona breezed in to the room. "I haven't got the actual apartment number, but I've narrowed down the location of Anson's lair. All we have to do now is work out how we're going to find out which one." She glided across to Michael to give him a peck on the cheek.

"So what have you been doing while we've been away?" She turned her attention to Sam.

"Oh I've been threatened. Blackmailed into stealing an arms shipment. Shot at, and nearly blown up. How about you?" He took a long sip from his beer, managing to hide how pleased he was to see her.

"Oh we had a lovely time. Didn't we Michael? Very relaxing." She linked her arm through Michael's. A worried frown briefly forming as she noted his expression. She could see all the old signs of fatigue and stress returning. She bit down on her lip, thinking they needed to end things as quickly as possible.

"It's nice for some." Sam replied, but quickly got back to business. Just like Fiona he wanted Anson and now Raines out of their lives as quickly as possible. They both watched as Michael pulled away from Fiona and began to pace about the room deep in thought.

**()**

Madeline had long ago learned if she wanted to know what was going on in her son's life she had to take matters into her own hands. From the sun room she had heard every word, they had said. She paled at the thought of what was going on, even though she didn't fully understand. She could see his friends watching him worriedly from the sidelines obviously neither felt ready to put a stop to his pacing.

She was reminded of how as a teenager Michael would do the same thing, pace back and forth until he built himself up into a point where he would explode. Taking a deep breath, she stubbed out her cigarette and got to her feet.

"Hello Fiona, I'm glad you're back, and safe." Madeline walked over to give the younger woman a kiss on the cheek. Before turning to where her son was watching her, from across the room. "Michael I need to have a word with you."

Michael swallowed and flashed a look at Sam and Fiona before turning back to his mother. "I'm busy at the moment, can it wait?"

"No Michael, it can not." She stated firmly, opening the door to step into the yard. Outside she lit up a cigarette trying to control the tremors in her hand.

Reluctantly he followed her out onto the steps. "What is it ma we're kinda busy if you hadn't noticed."

"I'll tell you what I've noticed. Sam and Fiona walking on eggshells around you, acting like they're too scared to push you, to offer up ideas in case you lose control again."

He looked away embarrassed by her bluntness, but she wasn't finished. "Do you remember when you came home that first time on leave. How you fought with your father because he borrowed some cash from your wallet?" She held onto his arm to stop him moving away.

"Ma I don't have time to reminisce. Beside he didn't _borrow_ he stole..." He shook her off, but didn't runaway.

"Then the next time you came home, when Nate had been suspended from school for fighting. Instead of getting into another fight defending your brother, what did you do?" She pressed.

"I- that was different ma. Dad was drunk already, and I was about to join special forces." Suddenly he got her meaning. "I took you and Nate out for a meal and when we got back he was asleep. There was no fight."

"That's what I'm talking about. You learned to control your temper, and use your brain. You've just got to remember how."

"It's not that easy ma. This is a totally different thing." He turned away from her. Noticing for the first time that Fiona and Sam were watching from the kitchen window.

"No it isn't Michael. You learned how to do it once. You can do it again, you're not your father. So don't let yourself turn into him." She pulled him back round to face her, her hand going to his cheek.

He looked down, then slowly nodded. "I'll try." He promised.

"That's all we ask, honey." She patted his cheek gently before letting him go. "Now go talk to your friends... And Michael."

"Yeah ma?"

"I'm going to take Nate and his family to Disneyland for a few days. Give you three a chance to sort things out."

A wave of relief swept over him, he smiled and stepped forward planting a kiss on her forehead. "Thank you."

"You're welcome Michael." She smiled, and with another pat on his arm she went inside to pack one of the bags she had only recently unpacked.

Michael watched her disappear inside, his mind made up. They would have to get everything in to place and act fast before either Anson or Raines could work out what was happening.

**()**

Once Madeline was safely out of the way packing her bags, they sat around the table. Michael took a deep breath and laid out his plan.

"Sam can you figure out the way of getting all the evidence Spencer got for you, tonight?"

"Tonight?" Sam rubbed his chin, then after a moment he nodded. "Yeah I think I can. Mariposa, is Elsa's maid she waits for her daughter to finish working on reception. So she'll be there until late. I could do with a distraction though, something to keep anybody watching from noticing me sneaking in." He looked at Fiona.

"How big a distraction?" She grinned.

"Fi. This has to be subtle remember who we're dealing with." Michael warned, closing his hand over her arm.

"Ok. No explosions." Her smile widened. "But distracting right?"

Neither man wanted to get into a discussion with what she planned to do, as long as she wasn't going to demolish half the hotel Sam was happy.

"Right." Michael gave her arm a squeeze. "First thing tomorrow I'll go see Pearce. Hopefully with what I got off the bug from my meeting with Anson, and what Sam has, it'll be enough to get Pearce to work with us."

"So that's the plan. We hand it all over and hope she does just throw us in jail." Sam asked, a hint of doubt in his voice.

"Yes, but there is no _we,_ when _I_ go to that meeting I want both of you gone. Out of the state, or even better out of the country, somewhere with no extradition treaties with the US or the UK."

"NO!" They spoke as one. Fiona catching hold of the front of Michael's shirt. "We're in this together. All the way. When you go to see Pearce we're going to be watching. If anything goes wrong we can get you out."

He looked from one to the other seeing that they were determined. "You do that and we'll all be on the run for the rest of our lives." Their expressions didn't change, he wondered what he had ever done to spark such loyalty. "Ok. We'll do this together. Fi, go set up your distraction while Sam gets in place."

**()**

Sam sat in Madeline's car watching the entrance to the Dearbon hotel. So far he hadn't spotted anybody outside who looked to be watching the place but he wasn't taking any chances. He checked his watch again, it was eleven pm Fiona's distraction would be starting soon. He just hoped Elsa would still have an hotel standing afterwards. There was no telling what Fiona might have come up with.

He heard loud peeling laughter, and drunken shouts heading towards him. His mouth opened in shock as he watched a group of close to thirty drunken college students no doubt on spring break descend on the hotel. Amongst them the tiny figure of Fiona Glenanne fuelling the merriment. As the Dearbon was invaded by partying teenagers Sam left the car and managed to sneak through the staff entrance.

Mariposa was sat in the kitchen, just as he thought she would be. Waiting for her daughter to finish working in the reception.

"Mister Sam!" She got to her feet. "Madame Dearbon has been so worried. What are you doing here?"

"Mariposa, I need you to do me a big favor." He gave the woman's arms a gentle squeeze, fixing her with his most charming smile. "What I'm doing is top secret. I can't explain it to you, but I need you to go up to Madame's room and bring me the folder taped under the bottom of the dressing table."

"Mister Sam?" She asked worriedly.

"Please Mariposa, it's really important."

Ten minutes later he was back in Madeline's car, watching the police move on, or arrest the more drunken of the students. Fiona was no longer in sight. As he started the engine, the passenger door opened and Fiona sat down next to him a large grin spread over her face.

"Was that distracting enough for you Sam?"

He pointed a finger at her, trying to come up with the words. "You!" He shook his head as she continued to grin. "Elsa's going to kill me if she ever finds out."

**()()() **

**Washington DC.**

"If we're going to have a good working relationship you must learn to keep me informed." Anson picked up his glass of scotch.

He was in a small bar along the street from the Ritz Carlton Hotel in Washington DC, sitting across from him Donald Raines looked relaxed and unconcerned by Anson's complaints.

"I had little choice but to bring him back, Kim Pearce was ready to fly out to the training camp to get him. Besides I'm not convinced that putting Michael, and that Glenanne woman together is a good idea."

"My job is knowing what makes men like Michael Westen tick." Anson replied. "You'll just have to trust my judgement on this."

Raines, placed his drink down and leaned forward. "Michael left the CIA because of that women. He had a promising career, the last disastrous job with Sizemore was, if not forgotten had at least been forgiven. Then he falls for a damn Irish terrorist, helps her escape capture and if that wasn't bad enough, he starts questioning what missions he would take. We only kept him by letting him go freelance. And you've put him back with that Irish bitch." Raines spat the words out.

"Miss Glenanne is an integral part of my scheme." Anson replied smoothly. "He loves her more than he loves himself. He would compromise everything he believes in for that _Irish bitch _as you call her." Anson felt like he was explaining things to a five year old.

"Fiona Glenanne is unpredictable, and she passes that trait onto Westen. There are better ways of keeping him under control." Raines stated. He paused as a waiter took away their empty glasses, replacing them with fresh drinks. Once they were alone again, he fixed Anson with a stare. "So what happened to the arms shipment? You realize that we're losing control of the gas pipeline?"

"I have a Serbian team taking delivery of a Predator drone tomorrow and they're delivering it to the Russians by the end of the week." Anson picked up his drink and took a sip before placing it down on the table. "I have to get back to Miami. If you can't follow my leadership this partnership isn't going to work. Keep me informed or everything you've tried to keep hidden over the years will come to light." He threatened.

Raines glared at his partner in crime, his own expression darkening. "You have nothing on me. Nothing that wouldn't incriminate you just as badly."

"Really?" Anson smirked. "Very early in your career, I believe Devereux took a chance and sent you and Larry Sizemore on a mission together. He said it was a mistake two inexperienced agents working together. But you both came back didn't you, only you immediately asked to be reassigned. Why was that?"

Raines dropped his gaze. "That was years ago."

"Embarrassing though for a director in the CIA, it could lead to questions about your loyalty."

Raines drained his drink, his hand trembling. "Fine." He snapped. "I'll remember to keep you informed in the future."

Anson pushed his chair back and got to his feet. "Thank you Donald. Now I must go." He dropped several bills onto the table. "Have another drink on me. You look like you need one." He walked out smiling smugly.

Raines stared into space, realizing that some how he had ended up as another of Anson Fullerton's assets. He called the waiter over and ordered another drink. Sitting back he sipped on the neat scotch, not paying any attention to the waiter who cleared away the used glasses.

The waiter carried the glasses out to the kitchen and made sure they went into the dishwasher. Satisfied that the glasses were being thoroughly cleaned, he left the bar through the back door and pulled a phone from his pocket.

"It's done."

"Good, now get back to Miami fast." A harsh rasping voice ordered.

"On my way Sir." The young man replied. With the call ended, he removed the memory card and SIM before throwing the phone away. He didn't even glance back when an ambulance pulled up in front of the bar, with it's lights flashing and siren blaring out.

**()()()**


	39. Chapter 39

**Out of the Ashes.**

**A/N: Thank you to everybody who has stuck with this story, your reviews, pms, mean a lot to me. And a special thanks to Amanda Hawthorn and Daisyday who read through the first half of the chapter for me. **

Chapter Thirty Nine,

"Hey kid, if you want to get the guy who did that to your sister. I can help. If you do something for me."

He had been standing in the ICU of The Mount Sinai hospital in Miami staring at his once beautiful younger sister who was laying attached to a ventilator, her broken body unresponsive, the doctors unwilling to say if she would ever wake up. The words had made him spin around, bringing him face to face with a walking nightmare.

"I've been speaking to the nurses, it's such a shame about your sister. The cops aren't interested are they? But you. You are a decorated soldier, served in special forces _you_ want to make them pay. With my help you could make the men who did this wish they had never been born." The voice was a harsh rasping whisper, the speaker's face swathed in thick bandages.

"How can you help me?" He remembered asking.

"I'm very good at finding information. I found out all about you in an hour. What you do say kid. I help you get the men who hurt poor Heather, and you help me get the people who did this to me?"

He looked the older man over, the whole of one side of his body looked burnt, nasal cannulas were providing oxygen support. "You help me, and then I'll help you."

The man chuckled, and then coughed. "It's a deal."

The young man who had just killed Donald Raines, smiled at the air stewardess as she brought him a scotch and soda. He was on his way back to Miami to complete his deal with the devil.

**()()()**

With Sam and Fiona off retrieving the evidence Sam had managed to dig up on Anson's rogue agency. Michael found himself at a loose end, Fiona had made a comment about him spending the time mending his relationship with his mother. But after staring at her bedroom door for a few minutes he came up with something else to do. After wandering into the kitchen to get himself another beer from the fridge he sat down at the dining table.

Taking everything they had, and handing it to Pearce was a desperate move. He wanted to be sure what he had was going to be enough to convince her to go after Anson Fullerton. So while he waited for Sam and Fiona to return he decided to go through the recording of his meeting with Anson. Setting up the recorder in front of him he pressed play and sat back listening to what Fiona's makeshift bug had captured.

_"So what did Agent Pearce want?" Anson's voice sounded hollow on the recording._

Michael turned the volume up, then pulled out the envelope Anson had given him from his pocket.

_"It is my business. Everything you do is important to me Michael. You're my favourite employee. So I'll ask again, what did Agent Pearce want?"_

Michael emptied the contents of the envelope onto the table, moving each piece around.

_"To ask me about the recent work I did for the agency." _

Finally he picked up the blue print showing the layout of the building he was to infiltrate. Opening up the folded paper he spread it out on the table, while Anson's voice droned on.

_"Inside you will find the schematics of a CIA evidence facility, an ID card identifying you as an employee and a key card to get you into the evidence lockers. I want the disc you took from the bank safe deposit box for Management. It's being held there. I'll give you a full day to get it."_

Michael smiled, this part of the recording proved Anson Fullerton was conspiring to break into a high security government building.

_"I'll be dealing with more than just a key lock, and guards. What other security am I looking at?" _

_"I can't be expected to do your job for you. That's why I'm giving you a full day so you have time to do your research." The sound of a chair scraping back. "Oh by the way your mom is back in town along with your brother, and his family. You should go visit. They're all worried about you."_

Hitting the stop button, Michael took a long drink from the beer bottle. If he had used a legal wire tap what he had would have been enough for Pearce to start an investigation. He reached forward and pressed the play button again.

_"So what did Agent Pearce want?"_

"Michael, who is that?"

He turned in his seat to see his mother hovering nearby. "Nobody important." He answered pressing the stop button. As she sat down facing him, he could see the worry etched into her face. "Ma?" He questioned.

"Is that the voice of the man blackmailing you? Who tried to have Sam killed?" She asked, pointing at the machine on the table.

"Yes." He answered. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have been playing it here." He muttered, seeing her face pale.

"I know him." She announced. "It was a while ago but I remember his voice." She gasped, a hand going to her mouth in shock, forcing down a feeling of nausea.

"Ma, what's going on?" He asked, his own expression changing to one of concern.

"That man. I've spoken to him. I told him all about you." She told him, her eyes wide realizing her betrayal.

Michael felt his blood run cold. "When?" He snapped.

"After your father died, I was so alone, I needed somebody to talk to. I started seeing a counsellor." Her fingers fumbled getting a cigarette out of the packet.

"Here, let me." He took the cigarette out, and then held the lighter up for her.

Madeline inhaled deeply trying to settle her nerves, after a moment she continued. "Like I was saying the way it happened you know so suddenly, I couldn't move on, all the things I had wanted to say to your father, I wanted to tell him off for driving you boys away... But I never got a chance. I'd had a few sessions when my regular counsellor had to go away and that was when _that_ man took over my sessions." She pointed to the recorder. "I told him all about your father...And about you... Michael I didn't know, I'm sorry."

Michael stared into space, a cold burning rage building up as he took in how long Anson had been delving into his life. His first instinct was to run out and find the man, to feel his hands around Anson Fullerton's neck as he squeezed the life out of him.

Then Madeline sniffed, and his eyes were drawn to her face. Suddenly he was on his feet, and pulling his mother to her feet. Wrapping her in a tight embrace, kissing the top of her head. "It's not your fault. You didn't know, besides by tomorrow night he'll be out of our lives. For good." As he spoke he rubbed her back, trying to soothe her.

She pulled back to look up at him. "He used me to find out about you, to find your weaknesses and I told him everything."

"It doesn't matter any more." He guided her away from the table. "It's getting late. Go to bed I'll stay until Sam gets back, he'll make sure you get off safely in the morning and when you get back Anson will be gone for good."

With Madeline safely tucked up in bed, Michael looked at his watch, wondering what was keeping his two friends. He was on his feet the instant he heard a car pull up on the drive, with his gun in his hand he peered through the curtains.

"What took you so long?" He demanded as soon as Fiona and Sam walked in through Madeline's kitchen door.

"Ask little miss girls gone wild here." Sam answered dropping the folder full of information into Michael's hands on his way to the fridge.

"Girls gone wild?" Michael asked, looking from Sam to Fiona.

"I'll explain later." Fiona slipped one of her arms around Michael's waist, reaching up to plant a light kiss on his cheek. "Where's Madeline?"

"She was tired." He answered abruptly, before turning to Sam. "Make sure my mom gets away safely in the morning, and give Nate a gun and make sure he knows to watch out for a tail."

"Sure thing Mikey." Sam answered wondering what had upset his friend. "Oh. We stopped off at Barry's and picked up the details of the bank accounts mentioned in that folder." He added.

"Good." Michael snapped, ignoring the puzzled looks he was receiving from his friends as he gathered up all the evidence. "I want Anson out of our lives as quickly as possible.

**()**

Fiona drove back to the loft, her eyes flickering to where Michael sat silently at her side gripping the folder Sam had given him. "You want to tell me about it?" She asked.

"It's nothing. I'm just worried about tomorrow." He offered her a tense little smile, before returning to staring straight ahead.

"It'll be fine, I've had a quick look at what Sam and Spencer found. It should be enough along with the financial information Barry discovered to get Pearce to help us." She patted his thigh.

"We'll have to see." Michael replied, his mind still on the fact that Anson had sat in a room with his mother while she thought she was sharing her deepest thoughts and concerns with a trusted professional. His hands involuntarily clenched, around the folder on his lap.

Back at the loft Michael went straight to the workbench and sat down opening up the folder. The recording was incriminating but he knew one illegal wire tap would not be enough. He needed a lot if there was going to be any hope of making Pearce work with him and promise to keep Sam and Fiona safe.

Having locked the door Fiona turned and stared at where Michael sat hunched over the paperwork. Walking to his side she tried to close the folder, but his hand held the cover open. "You need to rest." She kissed his cheek.

"I'm fine, I need to read all this so I know what I'm trying to sell to Pearce in the morning." He wasn't paying her any attention, his whole focus on the folder.

She pressed herself between him, and the work top, wriggling until she was comfortably between his legs, her arms draped over his shoulders and spoke to him in her most sultry voice. "If we go to bed now you can look at it in the morning."

"If I look at it now, I'll sleep better." He tried to peer over her shoulder at the piece of paper he had been reading. "Just." She planted a kiss on his lips. "A minute." Another kiss. "Please. Fi. Fiona."

She stopped to look at him, a pout forming on her lips. Then with an angry huff, she shifted to stand next to him, her hand over the page keeping him from reading the words. "We should have left the damn thing with Sam." She snapped angrily before walking away.

"This is important Fi." He muttered, as he went back to reading. There was so much information he wanted to read it all before handing it over. He studied each page carefully, staggered at how far Anson's power stretched. He was concentrating so hard on what he was reading he was completely unaware of Fiona watching him.

As she got ready for bed, she couldn't help but worry about what was going through his head. She worried that as he read more about Anson's rogue agency he would want to try to take it all down by himself rather than trust the CIA to do it for him. Passing by him she got a bottle of water from the fridge, before returning to his side. She sat down next to him, noticing how his brow furrowed as he read through the information Spencer had found. At one point he slammed his hand down, then jabbed at the mission report he had been reading.

"I knew it! At the time I knew there was something wrong. I worked that job." He told her angrily. "They were using me before the burn notice. I just didn't know it."

"Michael." Fiona spoke quietly but firmly, placing her hand over his. "If you don't rest you won't be fit for tomorrow. We both know there's enough in that folder to keep Pearce interested for months. Now come to bed." She got to her feet and pulled him to get up. He resisted for a moment, then gave in. Closing the folder he allowed her to pull him over to the bed, her fingers moving to unbutton his shirt.

As she stripped his shirt off she lay kisses on his neck, and when his head turned again to look at the work top and the intelligence reports she turned his face back to look at her. "Leave it Michael, it will be somebody else's problem tomorrow."

"I know, but..."

She cut him off, pushing him down onto the bed, her mouth sealing over his, her tongue probing gently against his lips. Until he surrendered to her touch, his body relaxing. His focus changing from the the folder to Fiona's warm pliant body resting on top of him. His fingers wrapped through her hair pulling her into a deeper kiss.

**()()()**

Kim Pearce tossed and turned in her bed, eventually sitting up and glancing at her bedside clock. It was four am, she had been in bed for less than two hours. With a frustrated sigh she threw the bed covers back and got out of bed. In the kitchen she replaced the filter and filled up the coffee maker there was no way she was going to get any more sleep. It had been the same since she had started working Max's murder, and made worse by the file she had been given implicating a director in the CIA, the man she was meant to report to Donald Raines.

Walking back into the lounge she sat down on her couch drawing her feet under her, and making room for Sadie the pitbull to join her. With Max's file on her lap she set about looking for any clues she had missed. Somewhere was the scrap of information that would lead to her catching the killer, and anybody who was shielding him.

A quiet knock on her front door jerked her awake, staring bleary eyed at the wall clock she realized at some point while leafing through Max's file she had fallen asleep. The gentle tapping came again, and finally Sadie the pitbull got to her feet and let loose with a loud woof.

Tying the belt on her dressing gown around her her waist, she went to the door. Frowning when she looked through the spyhole and saw who was outside. "What are you doing here Westen?" She called out.

"We need to talk. Can I come in?"

"What's so important it couldn't wait until later?" She called out while taking a gun out of her purse, and flicking the safety off, before bringing her hand up to unlock the door.

"I have something to give you." He stood on her doorstep holding out the folder a sincere smile on his face. "Something that believe me you do not want to be seen reading in your office." When she didn't take it off him straight away, he moved a little closer. "Honestly you want to see this."

Giving him a narrowed eyed stare Pearce stood to one side and gestured with her gun. "Get in here."

Michael walked into the lounge and held out the folder to her again.

With a huff she put her gun down and took the folder. "Sit down Westen." She ordered.

Dropping into a comfy armchair Michael sat back while Pearce scanned the documents inside the folder. By the time she had finished he could see the anger on her face.

"How did you get this?" She demanded anger making her voice quiver.

"A friend dug around a variety of sources, and came up with it." He replied evenly.

"And how long have you been sitting on all this?"

"Most of what's in there, I only found out last night." He slowly reached into his jacket pocket, making sure she knew he was no threat. Producing the recording of his meeting at the diner. "This has Anson Fullerton ordering me to break into a CIA evidence locker to retrieve his financial records."

"You broke into a CIA facility?"

"No, not yet. But he expects me to do the job today." Michael answered.

She pursed her lips, then looked him straight in the eyes. "So yesterday when I asked you about the rogue agency you lied to my face. So what's brought about this change of heart?"

"With all that's happened since I was burned I've no idea who I can trust any more. But I've realized I can't do it on my own." He leaned forward. "I've given you every single piece of information I have on Anson and the rogue agency. But it was all obtained illegally, if you let me steal that disc for him. You could use that to bring him down."

"So you're willing to wear a wire?" She asked.

He nodded his agreement.

"Good because at the moment you appear to be as guilty as he is." She got to her feet and picked up her gun again, her eyes frosty. "Before we go any further, I need to know I can trust you. So tell me everything you know about Max's murder. Oh and I want the truth this time."

"I don't know who killed Max." He hesitated to tell her the rest but knew if he hid details that came out later he would pay for it. "I was there, we argued just before he was killed. As I walked out of the building, I realized something was wrong, the security cameras were switched off. I went back and he was already bleeding out. I never saw who did it. But I knew if I stuck around I'd be blamed. If you bring Anson Fullerton down I'm sure he would give up the killer." He did his best to look sincere, willing her to believe him.

She stared at him, trying to decide if he was being honest, putting her gun away she decided to give him a chance. She could see no benefit for him coming to her with this far fetched story. She took a chance. She reached down for the file she had left on the couch.

"What do you make of this?" She threw him the file.

After the first page he knew what she had, and that Raines most likely organized Max's death. He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them and looked up at her.

"I was suspicious about Raines, just recently, since the death of the man I knew as Management he has been acting strange. I think he saw an opening, and somehow ended up working with Anson." He looked down at the floor, thinking about what he knew and what he had just read. "I still think Anson is the key to all this."

They stared at each other, Pearce felt an overwhelming sense of relief at finally having somebody who she could share her discovery with, she sank down on to the couch and put her head in her hands. "You know, when Max's wife gave me that file I thought I was going to be driven mad by it. But now..."

"But now we need to talk about me wearing a wire and the deal I want to make." Michael spoke up.

She looked at him through narrowed eyes her lips thinning into a thin line of disdain. "Westen don't play games with me." She growled.

"I'm not. You can do what you like with me, but I want a guarantee that Sam and Fiona will be safe from prosecution. Anson is blackmailing me by threatening to have my friends arrested. I want guarantees that you'll keep them safe."

"Is that it?" She snapped all friendliness gone from her tone.

He nodded. "Fiona and Sam kept safe. That's all I want." He confirmed.

"I promise I'll do what I can. But you wear a wire, and I'll have a tactical team watching you at all times. If you try to flee the deal will be off."

"Ok." He agreed. "Now how soon can we get this started?"

"Right away. Once I get dressed I'll get a team together and get you prepped."

He got to his feet reaching for his phone. "I'll call my team."

"Call them, but you're not leaving my sight until this is over."

**()()**

The young man made his way through the hospital, making his way up to the ICU, he entered one of the side rooms and stopped beside the comatose body of a young woman who lay attached to a ventilator and a variety of other medical machinery. He stood beside her, his hand stroking her hair the cold eyed stare he had worn replaced by a look of love.

"You're looking better sis, all the bruising is nearly gone. It's safe to wake up now. I got them both." He bent down his mouth close to her ear. "I told you about my new friend. Well he told me how to find them and what to do, and once I do a couple of little jobs for him I'll be back to take care of you. It'll just be the two of us against the world, do you remember how it used to be?"

He kissed her forehead, and left the room going to another room further along the corridor. He knocked softly on the door and then step inside, his new friend was sat in the corner of the room at first glance he looked to be asleep, but then his hand moved slipping a scalpel into his dressing gown pocket.

"You did good kid." His voice little more than a whisper.

"I didn't want to do it that way, Sir." He couldn't hide the regret in his voice, he hated using poison.

"We all have to do things we don't like, it's part of the job." The old man paused to catch his breath. "You can do rest of them your way." He shifted in the chair, his blue eyes watering as he fought through the pain to sit upright. "I want to be there. When you do it."

"Sir, I understand. But in your condition."

"I want to see their faces." He paused for a moment. "I want to watch the people who did this to me pay. You can understand that, can't you Ethan?"

Ethan nodded. He didn't know what he would have done if he hadn't met Larry Garber. The man had helped him find the men who had beaten his sister nearly to death, her boyfriend and the creep they had worked for. He was now going to help his new friend get justice for what had happened to him.

"Yes sir, I'll bring you some clothes and get you wheelchair."

**()()() **


	40. Chapter 40

**Out of the Ashes. **

**A/N: Thank you as always Amanda Hawthorn and Daisyday for reading through the begining of this chapter. Thank you to all those who have reviewed this story. I'm sorry for being lax in replying to you all but RL has been taking up a lot of time. **

Chapter Forty,

**()()**

It was in the early hours of the morning that Larry Sizemore's new best friend Ethan Cross, slipped into the hospital making his way along the corridors dressed in a 'borrowed' white doctors coat. After making a quick detour to look in on his sister, Ethan knocked lightly on the door to Larry's room before entering.

"You took your time kid." Larry commented, impatiently from where he sat on the edge of the bed.

"I was waiting for a shift change, I thought it would be the best time to get you out unnoticed." Ethan explained, placing a bag of clothes on the bed. "Do you need any help?"

"Believe it or not kid I've been dressing myself for quite some time. Go watch the door." Larry snapped, pulling the IV catheter from his arm. Once he was dressed, he eased himself to his feet doing his best to control his breathing as a wave of pain washed over him. "Help me get my shoes on." He gritted the words out from behind clenched teeth.

After helping Larry slip his feet into canvas plimsolls, Ethan held out his hand to assist the older man towards the door. "Are you sure about this?" He couldn't help asking, as Larry took a slow step forward.

"I told you. I'm not a cripple." Larry snapped, knocking the younger man's hand away and sucking in a deep breath. "Let's go."

With Ethan leading the way they made it out of the hospital without being stopped. In the underground parking garage Ethan led the way over to a blue BMW SUV he had stolen a few hours earlier.

"Sir you should stay in hospital. I can do this alone, I promise I'll get them all, they won't know what hit them." Ethan held the car door open for the older man thinking that he was looking worse by the minute.

Larry slumped in the seat, and rested a heavily bandaged hand on Ethan's arm. "That's the problem kid. _I_ want them to know. _I_ want them to suffer... I want to see their eyes."

With a sigh of resignation Ethan shut the door and went around to the other side. Reaching under the steering column he connected the correct wires to start the engine. "Where to?" He asked.

"Michael Westen's mother's house... I'll direct you." Larry lay his head back, closing his eyes doing his best to push the pain away. Concentrating instead on his list of soon to be deadees.

"Mother?"

Ethan's query interrupted his thoughts. He looked at the younger man wondering briefly if he had what it took to do work. "Relax kid. When Michael is preparing for war he sends her away." He took a break for a moment wishing he had told Ethan to bring a couple of cannisters of oxygen along. "One of his team will be there. We can follow them."

**()()**

Nate Westen stood next to the station wagon he had rented for this little forced family vacation. Glancing worriedly through the window at his wife Ruth, who sat stony faced on the back seat of the car. Then to the front door of his original family home where his mother stood supervising Sam Axe bringing her case out to the car.

"Remind your mom about no smoking in the car Nate." Ruth ordered.

Nate closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. He had been listening to Ruth complain about his mother's smoking for the last two weeks

"Sam stop rushing me." Nate looked up at the sound of his mother's voice. "I'm not going to be able to have a smoke for the next two hours. So I'm damn well finishing this one." Nate raised his eyes to the sky, wondering what he had done to deserve the hell he was being forced to endure.

"Please Maddy, we've got a lot to do." Sam dropped Madeline's case into the back of the station wagon.

Madeline stood next to the car finishing her cigarette, a look of defiance on her face. It was six am and she faced a long drive in a car with a woman she despised and no nicotine to calm her nerves. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Sam hand her younger son a handgun and extra clip of bullets, and then whisper something in his ear.

"Don't worry Sam." Madeline called out. "We'll all keep our eyes open for a tail."

Sam at least had the decency to wince, and send Nate a look of pity. There was just no way of hiding anything from Madeline Westen.

"Ma just get in the car. Please." Nate looked up to heaven once more before getting in the car and driving away.

Sam watched them leave, then before going back inside he paused to glance up and down the street. As far as he could work out there was nobody watching them, and no car had followed the departing station wagon. Turning back to the house, he noticed the kitchen door was ajar pausing he tried to remember if Madeline had gone out through the door earlier. Pursing his lips, he decided not to take chances drawing his gun he went back inside to check for an intruder.

He went through every room in the house, checking out every corner. He couldn't find any sign of a break in or anything missing. After half an hour he decided Madeline must have gone out through the door at some point, and failed to shut it properly when she had come back inside. Putting his handgun away he went over to the large canvas bag he had placed on the dining table earlier.

Taking out his sniper rifle Sam started to dismantle the weapon for cleaning. He took each piece in turn examining it for any damage, or any slight imperfection that might effect it's performance before cleaning it, and putting it back together. At times like this he was all seriousness, and complete concentration. Hopefully he wouldn't need to use it, but if he did it would be because his friends lives were dependant on him. As he worked he lost track of time until he heard the scrape of a key in a lock.

Sam faced the door, his gun in his hand. "Hey Fi, Mike called you yet?" He put his gun down on the table before continuing with his packing.

Fiona walked over peering into the large canvas bag. "Pearce has agreed to work with us, but she isn't letting him leave her side." She answered. "It's a shame Anson thinks you're dead. I'm a better shot than you, and I wouldn't be squeamish about putting a bullet in his head." She ran her fingers lightly along the barrel of the sniper rifle.

Sam quickly zipped the bag closed. "That's why _I'm_ taking sniper duty missy. If Anson is dead there won't be a deal for any of us." He pointed out, lifting the bag up and moving towards the door.

She followed behind him. "Being on the run isn't a bad life Sam. There are plenty of places without extradition treaties with the US, and some of them are incredibly beautiful. You and Michael should widen your horizons. Stop looking at the glass as half empty."

"Well if anything goes wrong today I'm pretty sure we'll have plenty of time to visit them all, unless we're locked up in federal prison of course." He waited for Fiona to lock the front door and then unlock the trunk of her car.

As they drove off still bickering, Larry and Ethan followed at a distance. The GPS tracker Ethan had hidden in Sam's bag meant they didn't have to get close enough to be spotted.

**()()**

Pearce was a woman of her word. As soon as she was dressed she started making phone calls and within an hour had gathered a team of agents, and had a tactical squad on standby. The whole time she briefed her team she made sure Michael stayed at her side. Only when the communications technician arrived did she drop her supervision.

Michael stood patiently while he was wired for sound. Only interfering with the placement of the tiny microphone when he thought it would be visible to the trained eye."This guy is no amateur, it can't show at all." He informed the tech, while trying to reposition it.

"It won't show, and it has to be where it will pick up whole conversations."The CIA officer knocked Michael's hands away and then pulled his shirt closed as a hint to keep his hands off the wire.

Running his hands over the tape to make sure it was all secure Michael then buttoned up his shirt and looked up to see Pearce coming in his direction.

"You'll go to the evidence facility, use the cards Fullerton gave you to get inside. We've not told them we're running a mission. The only people who know are the ones that are here."

"And if they stop me?" He pointed to his chest. "How do explain this."

Pearce pushed her sunglasses up on to her head so he could see her eyes. "If that happens I'll be explaining to my boss why I'm running an unsanctioned mission with a burnt spy. Fullerton will find out you've turned on him, and your friends won't get the deal that saves their lives."

Michael fought back the wave of anger at the unfairness of it all. If he failed now he would tip Anson off, and Sam and Fiona would pay the price. "I'm so glad the CIA has my back on this." He answered bitterly.

"You came to me remember. Besides your file says you're very good at working under pressure with minimum support." Pearce replied, turning away to lead him outside. She pointed to his car, and the man crawling out from underneath it. "And in case you have any ideas about breaking the deal and running off. I've had trackers and a wire placed on your car." She pulled him round to face her. "I'm putting a lot of trust in you Westen. Don't let me down."

"Trust." He raised an eyebrow at that. "I can tell exactly how much you trust me."

**()**

Leaving Pearce and the rest of her team, Michael drove out to the evidence facility near the Miami international airport. Getting out the ID badge he pinned it to his jacket and slipped the key card into his pocket along with the number of the locker he needed to get into.

Walking with a purpose, looking confident and as if he really did belong there Michael entered the building. With a little polite small talk and a charming smile he sailed through the security checks and was soon back in his car with the disc Anson Fullerton had ordered him to steal.

Driving away he was aware that Pearce was having him followed at a distance. As he headed back into Miami he leaned forward reaching under his seat to where he had a well disguised slick. A place he usually used for hiding explosives or any valuable or illegal goods he didn't want found. Carefully he eased out a slimline laptop, switching it on he quickly copied the disc he had just stolen before hiding the laptop out of sight again.

He had no idea what was on that disc, but a lot of people had died over it. If it turned out Pearce couldn't hold Anson, or if the man wasn't the last one left Michael wanted to have a little bit of leverage of his own.

**()**

Pulling over outside a road side diner Michael pulled out two phones. He pressed the speed dial for Fiona's phone, and as soon as she answered he dialled up Anson's number.

"I have it." He spoke flatly, knowing that as well as Pearce, Fiona and Sam were also listening in on the call.

"Good job Michael I knew with the right motivation..."

"Meet me at Brickell plaza in an hour." Michael cut him off.

"No, you don't get to make these decisions Michael. Let's make it Coco walk in half an hour." Anson replied easily.

"Fine." Michael snapped. Coco Walk was not ideal but it would have to do, and half an hour didn't give much time for Sam and Fiona to get into position either. The only good thing was, for once he felt like he held all the cards. Anson didn't know about Pearce, or the wire he was wearing. Best of all he didn't know that Sam Axe was going to be watching through the scope of a sniper rifle.

**()**

"Coco walk." Larry spoke thoughtfully, thinking about what he knew about Michael's friends. Smiling even though it hurt his cracked and scarred skin, Larry turned to Ethan. "They'll be on a parking structure, high up with a good view of the meeting spot. Find me something opposite their position."

Ethan increased the speed of the SUV, the quicker they got set up the better. The more time he was spending with Larry the more he was beginning to realize he had made a terrible mistake.

**()**

Coco walk in the late morning was busy with tourists, and workers on their lunch break. It was the sort of place no sane person would start a gunfight, and where directional microphones would be useless. Michael had to admit Anson had picked a good spot, it was going to be a nightmare for Pearce to take Anson down. If the man spotted her team moving in he could easily appear in the crowds and disappear for good.

Finally Michael spotted Fiona sitting on a low wall reading a newspaper, looking around he found an empty table at a nearby cafe. With a fresh cup of coffee in his hand he sat back in his chair and tried to relax while he waited for Anson to arrive. All he had to do now was get Anson to say something that would give Pearce the opening she needed to make a case. If he did his job correctly, they would be free and safe from Anson and his rogue agency forever.

Suddenly Anson was pulling out a chair, and sitting down. "Michael... I thought you'd be on your own." Anson commented, looking pointedly in Fiona's direction.

"Fiona doesn't trust you. She thought it best to keep an eye on you." Michael replied flatly.

Anson looked from Michael to Fiona and then back at Michael again, a smile creasing his features. "She doesn't trust you either. Does she?" He commented, leaning forward slightly. "I mean it's written all over your face. You would like to kill me wouldn't you?"

"Let's.."

"No Michael. I think we should address your anger issues first. You know I..."

"My anger issues will be gone when you get out of our lives." Michael linked his fingers, trying to still the shaking in his hands. Just the thought of this man sitting in the same room as his mother pretending to be her friend brought out a near homicidal rage in him.

Anson continued to smirk. "I think it would be good for you to talk to somebody, I mean what I've read about you, especially recently. If I was your psychiatrist I would be very worried about..."

"We're not here to talk about me." He slammed a fist onto the table making it jump and several people turned to look.

Anson realized then that he was pushing the younger man a bit too far. There was always the chance when working with an unstable asset that they could snap. "Very well then." He held out a hand. "Hand it over and we can go our separate ways, until I need you again."

Michael brought out the disc in its case, and held it out but when Anson went to take it he tightened his grip. "What's so important, that you blackmailed me into stealing this for you?"

"You don't expect me to answer that do you? Michael you just need to accept you work for me now and stopped asking questions." He held out his hand.

"I give you this, you promise it's the last thing I have to do. That Fiona and Sam are safe." Michael tried again, worried that he wasn't getting Anson to open up. Six months ago he would have had the skills to make this man spill everything, now he was having to use all his skills to stop himself killing the man.

Anson shifted in his chair so he fully faced Michael. "What you did to me, well it's not something you can fix, with one little job. You, and your team destroyed my life Michael, and now you're going to have to replace everything you tore down. This was just one of many little jobs you're going to be doing for me."

Michael leaned forward, his face inches from the older man's, his lips curled into a snarl. "I just stole evidence from a CIA facility for you. That should be enough."

"Oh don't be so naive Michael. Now tell me how is your moth..." The words came to an abrupt end as Anson head exploded in a shower of blood and gore.

**()()**

As soon as they knew where the meeting was taking place Sam and Fiona had broken several traffic laws getting to Coco Walk as quickly as possible. After leaving Fiona next to the pedestrian area Sam had driven up into a parking garage, racing up to the top floor. Rushing to find a spot which would give him a view of the whole area. Once he found the best place to set up he used his car to hide his position and got his rifle out and ready to use.

Laying prone, staring through the scope on his high powered rifle Sam watched Michael arrive and then moments later Anson seemingly appear out of nowhere. He quickly scanned the upper levels and the nearby high rise buildings trying to see if Anson had his own sniper watching proceedings. Only when he was satisfied did he turn his attention back to watch the meeting.

He zeroed in on Michael, seeing the tension in his body and the anger on his face. "Hold it together Mikey." Sam muttered. "Just a little while longer." He couldn't hear what was being said, but he could read his best friend's body language.

A ringing sound got his attention and he looked into his bag a worried frown coming to his face when he spotted a phone he'd never seen before. Cautiously he picked up the phone and pressed the answer key.

"Yello?"

"Hello Sam."

Sam felt his blood run cold at the sound of Larry Sizemore's voice coming through the phone. He sounded terrible but there was no mistaking his voice.

"Larry? There's just no killing you is there? What do you want?" Sam asked, speaking lightly no need to let the undead ghoul know how rattled he really felt.

"I want you to drop dead Sam, but not until you've seen what's going to happen next. Look down."

Sam looked down and saw the unmistakable red dot that told him he was targeted by somebody with a laser assist on their sniper rifle.

"Sam, you make one more move and it will be your last." Larry told him.

"Larry. I swear to god if..."

"Shut up... You wind bag... Now you get to watch."

Sam followed the line of the laser assist into a room in an office block opposite his position. He wondered what Larry planned to do, then he heard the first shot.

**()()()**

"Michael!"

Fiona's shout sounded out over the top of the screaming of all the panicked pedestrians. The sound of a second shot and a sudden burning sensation across the top of her shoulder sent her flat on the floor as blood began to run down her arm from where a bullet had creased the top of her shoulder. The pain meant nothing though because the last time she had seen Michael clearly, his face and chest had been covered in blood.

"Fi!"

The sound of his voice sent a shiver of relief flooding though her body. Ignoring the pain she left the safety of the low wall and started to crawl towards him. She had barely began to move when another shot ricocheted off the pavement in front of her.

"God damn it Fi stay still!" Suddenly he was there, his body covering hers, his warm breath fanning her cheek. They faced each other hearts beating as one, the screams and shouts of the other people in the square washing over them. As they looked into each others eyes.

"Pearce get in here there's a sniper!" Michael shouted in to the microphone strapped to his chest. As he spoke he could feel Fiona's fingers gently running over his blood splattered face and chest, her expression filled with fear that he had been hit. "I'm fine Fi it's Anson's blood."

His eyes were drawn to the blood that was freely flowing from her shoulder he noticed the way her right arm was close against her body. "What about you?"

"It's a nick that's all." She replied brushing aside the injury, as she awkwardly reached into her bag and brought out one of her back up guns. "The shots are coming from the ninth or tenth floor of that block."

She pointed to the building across from where Sam was set up on the roof of the parking garage. Another shot rang out and both zeroed in on the floor and room that was being used by the sniper.

"How bad is it?" He took the gun but his attention was still on her wound.

"It's just a scratch." She hissed, as he gently placed a hankerchief over the deep gouge.

"Michael. You need to get that sniper." She ordered, when he made no effort to move.

"I.." He looked at her, his fingers ghosting along her jawline. She was hurt, and he didn't want to leave her side.

"That sniper is going to kill us both if you don't stop him." She gave him a push. "GO!"

He was given no choice when another shot sliced through the edge of the wall sending out splinters of concrete. With the people remaining in the square all flat on the floor the sniper was finding it easier to pick his shots, and a decorative wall was not going to stop high powered bullets forever.

As he broke from cover, Fiona sat up her own handgun out, firing up at the building trying to give him cover as he sprinted towards the building holding the sniper.

**()**

Sam froze in horror when the first shot rang out his eyes widened when Anson's body collapsed and Michael dived for cover covered in blood. When the second shot rang out and he couldn't tell if Fiona had been hit or not he couldn't stay still any longer. Larry couldn't be watching him and firing at the same time. When the third shot was fired he dropped and rolled away under a nearby car. One shot came his way and then nothing.

Hugging his rifle to his chest Sam lay still while he caught his breath. Whoever Larry was working with had no problems shooting into a large crowd in order to hit his targets. Gritting his teeth Sam shuffled backwards, coming out behind the car he had been using for cover. From his position he couldn't see what was going on below but he had a near perfect angle to target the sniper.

**()**

Michael kept his head down, and ran as fast as he could towards the building holding the sniper. Overhead a circling helicopter nearly drowned out the sound of Fiona's shots. He risked a look over to the parking garage wishing he had some sign from Sam that he was alive and uninjured and was just waiting for a chance of a clean shot.

Not trusting the elevators Michael ran towards the stairs, going up two at a time only slowing when he got to the ninth floor. Pausing to catch his breath and check over the gun Fiona had given him before continuing more cautiously up to the tenth floor.

Easing carefully around the corner, Michael held his gun ready to fire. Ahead he could hear the unmistakable sound of cartridges being loaded into a rifle. Creeping towards the room, it wasn't until he heard a light scraping noise behind him that he realized he had been outmanoeuvred. Spinning round, he turned straight into a hard blow to the side of his head.

Momentarily stunned, Michael sagged against the wall, trying to get his eyes to focus. As his vision cleared he paled at the sight that greeted him. Even with most of his features hidden by bandages and the pieces of his face that were visible were burnt it was possible for Michael to recognize Larry Sizemore.

"Larry? I thought we killed you."

"Well I guess I'm just not done haunting you yet." Larry replied surveying Michael with a cold fixed icy glare. The gun he held awkwardly in his hand cocked as he prepared to fire. "Your girlfriend nearly killed me. Did you think I'd just let that go?"

"You tried to ruin my life." Michael stated, knowing he was looking death in the face.

"Well unfortunately for _you and your little friends_ I'm cleaning house today." Larry coughed, he reached out for the wall as his whole body convulsed with pain.

Michael began to raise his gun, his brain screaming at him to fire, but he hesitated whatever else he was, Larry had been like a father to him. Far more than his own flesh and blood had ever been.

Larry saw the hesitation, and sneered. "You're weak Michael, _They've _made you weak. The girlfriend, and Axe. You're a shadow of your real self. The old Michael Westen would have pulled that trigger and ended me by now." Larry gasped.

"I'm not a killer." Michael spat back.

"Is that what you tell yourself." Larry scoffed. "You forget Michael I've seen you with blood on your hands, you've killed nearly as many people as I have. Did you ever tell Sam or Fiona about what you did in Chechnya?"

The shot sounded loud and hollow in the empty corridor. Larry stared in shock at the rapidly spreading stain on the front of his shirt. He staggered back and slowly sank down to the floor. Michael froze in place, smoke coming form the muzzle of his gun, he stepped towards his old mentor watching as blood bubbled out between the fallen man's lips.

"Larry! Sir, we …."

Michael spun round to find himself facing a young man holding a sniper rifle, which was now aimed at his chest.

Ethan looked down at Larry's crumpled body and then turned his attention back to Michael, his finger curled around the trigger. A gentle squeeze and his benefactor's killer would be dead.

"Kid." Michael held his hands clear of his body, his gun pointed to the floor. "You don't want to do this."

Ethan didn't answer he had nothing to say to the man who killed Larry. Instead he narrowed his eyes and prepared to kill Michael Westen.

"Kid. I mean it, _you_ do not want to pull that trigger. Look down."

"You expect me to fall for that old trick."

Michael just nodded, his eyes fixed on the little red dot on the sniper's chest. With an angry sigh Ethan looked down and saw the tell tale mark.

"My guess is that Sam Axe has you tagged. If you kill me he'll kill you." Michael told him hoping the kid was going to make the right decision.

Ethan hesitated, he didn't want to die but he didn't want to go to prison for life either. The doors to the stairwell bursting open took the choice away from him as he faced a CIA tactical squad.

Michael dropped his gun instantly placing his hands on his head. He was relieved when Larry's sniper gave up without a fight. He watched as the kid was dragged to the ground and handcuffed.

Moments later Pearce arrived, her eyes taking in the sight of a definitely dead Larry Sizemore, before turning to the young man who had caused all the chaos below in custody. Satisfied that everything was under control she turned towards where Michael stood against a wall being watched by one of her own men.

"Do you have any idea the heat I'm going to take for this mess." She snapped. "I have four wounded civilians downstairs, three of them tourists. Fullerton is dead, as is Director Donald Raines." She saw the surprise on Michael's face. "He died in suspicious circumstances last night, the coroner thinks he had been poisoned."

"I didn't know." Michael told her worried about the way things had turned out. "We didn't know that, what about our deal?"

"The deal was for you to get me proof of Anson Fullertons guilt. You failed."

"Sam and Fi." Michael went to move but was pushed back against the wall.

She gave him a hard stare. "It's out of my hands."

"You promised!" He pushed passed the guard, coming to an abrupt stop when her gun barrel pressed into his stomach. "You promised if I did this..."

"_This? This_ is a total mess Westen! It's going to take a miracle to salvage something out this situation." She turned to the man holding onto Michael's arm. "Take him in for questioning." Before Michael could say another word she stalked away he could hear her talking into her radio. "Find Axe and Glenanne I want them in custody as well."

()()

**One chapter left and this story will be over. Sorry to all those who wanted Sam to kill Larry.**


	41. Chapter 41

**Out of the Ashes:**

**A/N: Ok this is it, the last chapter, I hope you all enjoy.**

Chapter Forty one

Six hours after the death of Anson Fullerton, Agent Pearce began to realize that she was well out of her depth with this case. Coco Walk was still closed down and forensic teams were still spread out gathering evidence, when she was called back to the field office to explain why she had been running an unsanctioned investigation involving a burned spy.

Then files started appearing on computers throughout the whole of the US intelligence community. Washington DC, Langley and the Pentagon were all thrown into confusion as those Intelligence officers, politicians and Military officers who were implicated had to be brought in and held while an investigation took place. And that was when Agent Kim Pearce found herself in the centre of the storm, facing questions from all sides.

Twenty four hours after Anson Fullerton's death, and she had only managed to get three hours sleep and was meant to be leaving for DC later that afternoon. Now she was hurriedly gathering up her files, preparing to brief the team taking over her job in Miami.

"Agent Pearce? Congressman Cowley is on line two."

Pearce looked up at the young rather harassed looking agent standing in the doorway to her office. She was tempted to say to tell the congressman she was too busy dealing with the fall out from the international crisis Fullerton's death had caused to deal with a politician. But instead she sucked in a deep breath and reached for her phone. He was after all the head of the intelligence oversight committee and at the moment she needed him on her side.

She forced a smile onto her face. "Put him through."

An hour later she put the phone down, got to her feet, and grabbed a file off her desk.

"_**Who the hell let Sam Axe have a phone call?"**_

She stormed across her outer office, glaring at her junior agents who all dropped their heads and at least tried to look like they were busy. Leaving them behind she stalked along the corridors moving towards the row of interrogation rooms. Being chewed out by a Congressman who was also the head of the intelligence oversight committee had turned her headache into a raging migraine and given her a taste of what she had coming in DC. Reaching the room which held Sam Axe, Pearce paused with her hand on the knob. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath, going in there angry would get her nowhere.

Sam Axe looked up as the door to the room he had been sat in for nearly twenty four hours was flung open and an angry looking Agent Pearce stepped inside.

"Mr Axe." The words came out from between clenched teeth as she forced a smile on to her face.

"Agent Pearce." He growled back, he was in no mood for pleasantries.

She opened a file and slammed it down on the desk. "Within six hours of Anson Fullertons assassination certain evidence came to light. Listening devices, some of them having your fingerprints on the parts, were found in DOD communication offices in Miami, and in DC."

"I had nothing to do with that." He stated. "Anson, had them planted..."

"We know. Michael told me about Fullerton's efforts to blackmail you all into working for him." She dropped down into the only other chair in the room, facing him across the table.

Sam let out a long sigh. "So you believe me? There are no charges?"

She nodded. "Believe me when I say Langley is concerned with bigger fish than you at the moment. But we might have more questions for you later. So don't leave town."

"What about Mike, and Fi. What's happening to them?"

"Michael will be assisting us with the investigation, if he manages to avoid any new charges he'll probably be released...Eventually. Miss Glenanne... Her future is out of my hands, British and Irish intelligence have both put in applications for her repatriation. She's being held by Homeland Security at the moment."

"That's it?" Sam spoke angrily. "If she's taken back to either Ireland or Britain she's dead. I thought we had a deal."

"That deal went south when Fullerton was assassinated. Sorry there's nothing I can do about it." She got to her feet, leaning over the table glaring into his eyes. "You should count yourself lucky, over the years you've made quite a few enemies up in Langley. Some of them were looking forward to burying you over this. If I was you, I'd thank the girlfriend, and keep my head down."

"Elsa?" Sam asked, hers was the last name he expected to hear. "How did..."

"It seems your girlfriend has some influence over Congressman Bill Cowley, now get out of here and stay out of trouble."

Sam slowly got to his feet, stopping by the door, still wanting more answers. "About Mike and Fi?"

"There's nothing more I can do, Mr Axe. Good day."

Sam left the Miami field office as fast as he could, his mind frantically trying to work out a way to save Fiona from certain death. It wouldn't matter where they held her, somebody from one of the many groups she had pissed off would find away to kill her. He was at a loss at what to do, why the hell had they talked Mikey into handing things over to the CIA.

**()()**

Pearce stared at Sam Axe's departing back until he went through the doors leading to the outside. Then with a huff she walked further along the corridor, stopping next to a man standing guard outside another room.

"Have Westen ready to travel in an hour. He's accompanying me to DC."

"He's been asking to see you Ma'am. I was told you were too busy to speak to him."

Pearce glanced at her watch, she was due in a briefing in a few minutes time. "Fine." She huffed and waited while the guard unlocked the door for her. "I can give him a few minutes."

She walked through the door to find him sat facing her across a table, he looked annoyingly relaxed. "I only have a couple of minutes Westen. What do you want?" She snapped taking a chair facing him.

"Can I ask you question?" He spoke calmly. When she nodded and checked her watch again he continued. "Before you started the investigation into Max's death I'm sure you read my file." She nodded impatiently. "And I'm guessing since Anson's death you've gone through everything you could find in his home, and office?"

"Get to your point Westen."

"If you have read about me, you know that I would do _anything_ to save my friends. I would die for them, go to jail. I would suffer whatever punishment you could come up with to keep them safe and free."

Pearce stared at him seeing the cold hard truth of his words. "What have you done?"

"I learned a valuable lesson from Anson Fullerton. If you know something so terrible, something that other people would never want to come to light you can use that to control them."

She thought rapidly of all the jobs he had done over the years, of all the secrets he knew. But the Michael Westen she had read about was a patriot, even after everything he had been put through he still loved his country. He was also not stupid, or as far as she knew suicidal, threatening to release secrets was a sure way to end up in a deep dark hole.

"If you are..." She growled the words out so angry she could barely speak.

Seemingly unconcerned by her fury he spoke again. "I want you to call whoever is dealing with the repatriation of Fiona and tell them I have something they might want to hear."

"Michael if you go through with this you'll never see the outside of a prison cell again. Think about.."

He slammed his hand on the table his eyes filled with anger. "I. DON'T. CARE!" He shouted, showing the first bit of emotion since she had entered the room. "I don't care what happens to me." He repeated in a quieter tone all the fight gone from his body. "Sending Fiona back to the UK will mean her death. If that happens I don't want to live."

Pearce took a deep breath and then got slowly to her feet. "I'll pass on what you've said. But believe me Michael you do not want to go down this route. It won't just be you that suffers."

He looked up at her his expression dead, it was plain he meant every word. "One way or another this ends today Agent Pearce. For me, it ends."

With one final look at him, Pearce left the room hurrying down the corridor, her phone in her hand. "Get me Homeland Security."

**()()**

"Fiona Glenanne?"

Fiona looked up from where she sat handcuffed to a small steel table. She was tired and filled with worry for her friends. For herself she was resigned to travelling back to the UK. She looked up at the speaker, he was smartly dressed in a designer suit, and moved like a Military man. SAS, mostly likely or maybe MI6. She thought as she looked him over.

"I'm Andrew Sawyer-Jones I've been asked by British intelligence and G2 to speak to you." He spoke with a crisp, well educated London accent.

"The Irish Ministry of Defence, what do they want with me?" Not what she had been expecting.

He stepped further into the room, closing the door before taking a seat facing her. He took his time crossing one leg over the other and arranging his trouser legs. Then looked at her, and smiled, all white teeth and insincere charm. She hated when Michael had that look, when this man did it, it made her want to slap him upside the head.

"You have some very powerful enemies Fiona. Do you mind if I call you Fiona? Miss Glenanne sounds so formal." Suddenly she was reminded of Gilroy. This man had the same smarmy attitude.

"Call me what you like. Have you come to tell me I'm on my way home?" Cold fear grab at her but she hid it well. If she was taken to Dublin she would be dead within a week. The only place worse would be Belfast.

He smirked, slowly looking her up and down. She felt strangely uncomfortable under his gaze. She wondered how much more trouble she would be in if she knocked that look off his smug English face.

"That's up to you. What I have come to discuss is your relationship with Sir Douglas Heversham."

She paled, nobody was meant to know about that. Nearly everybody involved had died, mostly from so called accidents that were in fact assassinations. She had survived because a certain American spy decided to interfere in the deal being agreed. There had been promises made, nobody was ever to mention Heversham again. The affair died along with the six man rogue IRA team in league with the English gentleman, and the two customs officers who had the misfortune of stumbling into the incident.

"There. Is. Nothing. To. Discuss." She enunciated coldly. Sitting up straight she stared at the man. Nobody wanted to remember Heversham

"Would it ease your fears if I told you Michael Westen is the one who has broken the silence." He commented.

"Michael wouldn't." She answered. Deep inside she knew he must have decided they no longer had anything to lose. Heversham was an all, or nothing play.

"Fiona I don't have a lot of time. Let me lay my cards on the table." He leaned forward. "Sir Douglas Heversham a relative of Her Majesty was funding and supplying logistical assistance to a rebel group within the IRA. He helped plan an attack which if it had succeeded, would have left the Good Friday Agreement in tatters."

Fiona felt the old fury at the British beginning to rise. "Aye and when Michael handed over the intelligence, you bastards came in and killed all those involved. So is that what you're here for now? To finish the job."

Sawyer-Jones leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "No. Unfortunately Mr Westen has been a rather clever boy and hidden the evidence away. He wants your freedom in exchange for never mentioning the affair again." He opened his briefcase and pulled out a thick pile of documents. "This is the deal." His expression hardened. "It is non-negotiable."

Fiona skimmed each page, her record wiped clean, all evidence of her membership to the IRA erased. In return she would never set foot in Northern Ireland or Eire ever again, and Michael Westen would hand over every document he had regarding Sir Douglas Heversham.

"What will happen to him?" She asked, her eyes filling with tears, there was no mention of guaranteeing his safety, or release.

"Who? Oh Westen." He gave her a brief pitiful smile. "It's hard to say, best not to think about it." He pointed to the last page and handed her a pen. "Now be a good girl and just sign this. Then you're free to go."

"I want to see him."

"Not in my power Miss, sign the page or his sacrifice will be for nothing."

She thought about stabbing the damn British prick through the hand with the pen, but brought herself under control. If she refused Michael's sacrifice would be for nothing, if she was on the outside there might be something she could do to save him. Even if it came to breaking him out of prison and going on the run, it was better than them both staying locked up and apart. She grabbed the pen and signed the document.

**()()**

Michael lay on the hard bunk that had been his bed for the last two weeks. The endless round of questioning and threats of a life behind bars left him unmoved. Ever since he had made the decision to threaten the release of documents that would have embarrassed the British royal family and damage the fragile diplomacy between the British and Irish parliaments he had been at peace. Fiona was free and safer than she had been for a long time.

For the last day he had been left alone, presumably his interrogators were sick of trying to get a response out of somebody who didn't care what happened to them. He didn't even shift his position when the door to his cell was thrown open, and his clothes landed across his body.

"Get changed." Came the gruff order.

"Why? What's changed?" He asked, sitting up.

"Just do as your told Westen. Unless you want to stay."

**()**

Michael flinched when the head bag was whipped away, making his ears sting. He was sat in a familiar office, looking out of the window he spotted the Miami skyline. He was in Agents Pearce office.

She came into the room looking a lot calmer than she had the last time he had seen her, remaining quiet he watched as she removed his restraints. Throwing the shackles into the corner of the room, before taking a seat facing him.

"The investigation has cleared you. They accept that you were working under duress and given your current medical condition they are honoring the agreement we made." She announced flatly.

"I'm free to go?" He was surprised.

"I know it's a shock, but whatever you said to the British representative had an effect. There are of course conditions."

"Conditions?"

"The fact that you would risk damaging your own country's international relations for an asset has convinced Langley that you're damaged goods. I have been ordered to tell you, though the burn notice has been lifted you are still under close surveillance and will remain so for the foreseeable future. All travel plans have to be approved through this office, and believe me when I say your movements will be tracked." She paused for a moment, letting her words sink in before she continued. "But, Langley likes the idea of having somebody they can use off the books. So after a three month break they want to see you back here to re-evaluate your state of mind."

"Using somebody off the books, isn't that illegal." Michael answered flatly. It sounded an awful like they were going to try to use him the same way Anson and his cronies had.

"Now is not the time for you to become squeamish about legalities Westen. We'll be in touch." Then when he didn't move immediately. "You can go."

He was up and out of the office as quick as could. He had no phone, and no money he had no choice but to call his mother from the reception.

"Ma, yes I'm out. Can you ask Fiona to pick me up from the CIA field office?"

**()**

Twenty minutes later he found himself climbing into his mother's car. "Where's Fi?" He asked.

"She's busy Michael besides I wanted to talk to you."

He leaned his head back on the headrest and shut his eyes. "Ma, please not now."

"Yes now. Do you have any idea what you have put us all through in the last few months? How many times your friends have nearly died for you? Had their lives turned upside down because of your actions?"

"I know, I'm sorry I'm trying my best." He whined, not wanting to hear this now.

"I mean it Michael, you've got to understand you're not alone anymore. Your actions have consequences for us all."

"I get it. Honestly I do." He was grateful when she let it go and didn't continue to lecture him on his recent behaviour. However he began to frown when she missed the turn for the causeway. "I thought you would take me to the loft."

"No, I have something at home I need you to do first." She informed him.

He closed his eyes again imagining a whole load of chores she probably had waiting for him. He turned to her when he saw Sam's and Fiona's cars parked outside. "Mom I'm not ready to meet a crowd." He told her.

"They're your friends Michael." She told him opening her door. "Come on it's just Fiona and Sam."

"Hey Mike." Sam looked up as they walked through into the backyard. "Good to have you back brother."

"Hey." He took the beer his friend handed him and looked around. "Where's Fi?"

"Inside, she wanted to clean up a bit. We've been working on getting Nate clear off all that debt." He gave a short laugh. "Las Vegas moneylenders are just as easy to con as those from Miami."

"So Nates ok?" As he spoke Fiona stepped outside, dressed in a long pale green sun dress her hair hanging loose about her shoulders.

Michael didn't hear Sam's reply, he was too wrapped up staring into Fiona's eyes.

"Hi." She returned his look, her hand ghosting his cheek afraid to touch him in case he disappeared. The last two weeks had been a lifetime for her, he may have never said out loud that he loved her, or even offered much in the way of commitment but what he had done to gain her freedom was as good as shouting the words from a roof top.

"Hi." He replied leaning into her, his lips tenderly touching her forehead.

"Is it over?" She asked.

"Yes."

"Good." Madeline interrupted their little moment. "Sam, I've got steaks in the fridge, and the Barbecue has heated up."

**()**

By the time they had eaten and the beer had all gone Michael was worn out. After having spent so much time locked in a cell alone, he was easily overwhelmed by the small gathering. As darkness fell and Sam announced he had to get back to Elsa, Michael headed for his old room for a lie down.

"Go see him sweetheart." Madeline nodded to the guest room. "He shouldn't be alone, not now."

Entering the bedroom Fiona found him laying fully clothed on top of the covers one arm flung carelessly over his face. He didn't move when she sat on the bed next to him.

"How are you?" She asked, running her hand along his thigh.

"Tired I guess." He answered, moving his hand away from his face. "It's all over.. I'm clear of the men who burned me, Larry's dead... I ..."

"You don't know what to do." She finished for him. She lay down against him, her head on his shoulder her arm wrapped over his waist. "I know it's difficult. But for now let's just take what we can get."

He played his fingers through her hair. "I didn't tell you, but Anson had interviewed my mom. They had been watching me for years working on how to break me."

She caught the hitch in his voice, and turned to look up at him, letting her hand glide across his face. "They failed." She told him, reaching up to place a soft kiss on his lips, breaking away and then he took over pulling her into a tight embrace his mouth sealing over hers in a demanding kiss. She sighed into him relaxing, letting him take the lead, opening her mouth letting his tongue caress her own.

"Michael." She panted, breaking the kiss. "Your mom, she's in the other room."

He became still, bringing himself back under control. "We should go back to the loft."

She got to her feet and pulled him up. "Yes we should." She led him out of the room. "Madeline we're going home." She announced, without a pause as she headed for the door.

"Ma, I'm tired. A good nights sleep and I should feel a lot better. Bye." Michael followed in Fiona's wake.

Madeline watched them leave, and smiled as Fiona's car roared to life. "Sleep." She muttered reaching for another cigarette. "How old do they think I am?"

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this last chapter, I hate ending stories and always feel I should add more. But this is what has caused some of my stories to end up so long. I need to work on having a bit of discipline. **

**Any how a big thank you to Amanda Hawthorn and Daisyday who read through parts of this story for me and who have both helped me to improve my writing. **

**Also thank you to all the people who have reviewed and put Ashes on their favourite and alerts lists. It was all your wonderful support and suggestions that kept this story going on for as long as it did. **

**So thank you and I hope you continue to enjoy my stories. **

**Storyfan 101 for your reviews and gentle reminders when I was late updating. BurnedMichaelY for encouraging others to read Ashes and my other stories, I Luv ewansmile, Coolaquaruin, Bcmom, Those plastic roses, Veefall, Ariesrobin, Jellybelly Kelly, FMSmandi, WIWJ, Meghan Savage,PSU93girl,VB923, Effie17, love to review, lovedietcoke, amblue36, and to all the anonymous reviewers who have left a comment since I opened up my reviews. Sorry if I've forgotten anybody, you are all brilliant.**


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